


Any Minute Now

by knittycat99, nubianamy



Series: The Donutverse [29]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Discipline, Dom/sub, Donutverse, F/M, Family Drama, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Guilt, Season/Series 02, Secret Relationship, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 162,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittycat99/pseuds/knittycat99, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Finn, Kurt, Puck and Blaine continue their relationship into junior year, two major complications drive them apart. </p><p>Donutverse (polyamory, Dom/sub, discipline) with Kurt/Puck/Finn/Blaine, Will/OMCs, Kurt/Puck/Adam Lambert and other relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birth: 1993

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gala_apples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/gifts).



> This story follows directly after the last chapter of [Dying in America](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3196742), at the beginning of season 2, their junior year, September 2010. It is a work in progress, but it's entirely plotted and I'm about a third done with it. I will post once a week until it's complete. 
> 
> If you're brand-new to the Donutverse, here's the ridiculous summary of the last million and a half words: Kurt, Puck, Finn and Blaine are in a committed BDSM relationship. Puck and Kurt are also in a relationship with Adam Lambert, who's currently on tour. Puck's daughter Beth is living with them at the Hudson-Hummel house part time and with Shelby Corcoran part time. The boys are good friends with Will Schuester's fiancé Toby, who is the choreographer for Vocal Adrenaline. Blaine and Dave were childhood friends; Dave's closeted and in love with Blaine, and they're just starting to put together their friendship again. Blaine and Santana were also childhood friends. 
> 
> If Dying in America was the sweet, light chapter of the Donutverse, this is the dark, miserable one. This is not to say there won't be some fun parts, and plenty of sex, but I should warn you that very many not-nice things happen in the course of this story. Trigger warnings include internalized homophobia, mental illness and abusive parents. 
> 
> One of the main threads in this story is Puck’s crisis of faith. There are some portrayals of a fictional evangelical group that are less than kind. Please do not interpret this as a condemnation of any particular religion. Extra hugs for readers who have experienced this kind of manipulation at the hands of religious leaders. I myself have not, and I’m writing it fictionally. I hope you’ll be kind to yourself as you read, and take care of yourself as needed. 
> 
> The title is from the Colin Hay song, [Waiting for My Real Life to Begin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4tcRlHY-3Q), which inspired this story and made me kept writing the Donutverse after several challenging events in my life caused me to stop for a while. It's been almost six years since I wrote Knockdown, and somehow, I've continued this far. There's so much more story to tell. I'm thrilled to have you here. 
> 
> I love, love, love to talk about the Donutverse. Come find me [on tumblr](nubianamy.tumblr.com) or email me at nubianamy at gmail dot com, or comment on a chapter or two.
> 
> -amy

_The baby was born just after midnight, which meant there was a period of time between second and third shifts when he got to stay with his mama. It was nearly unheard of in a high-risk pregnancy like this one for the baby and the mother to have unsupervised time without machines or medication, but it was those moments she remembered the most, when he rested on her bare skin, made comfortable smacking sounds with his tiny lips and curled his fists and feet into her like a homing beacon._

_They fit together as perfectly as they had for the past thirty-seven weeks. She didn’t remember ever being so content, not with Timothy, who’d been colicky from day one, and certainly not with Aaron, who hadn’t even bothered to show up for the birth of his second son. She knew where he’d be when she got home in two days: stretched out on the couch, a bottle in one hand and the remote in the other, nearly a permanent fixture when he wasn’t working. She was lucky her mother had offered to take Timothy when she’d gone into labor early. At least she didn’t have to worry about him._

_She did worry about Aaron, but it had been so long since he’d really been around, she could almost write him off entirely. Almost._

_And then, suddenly, there he was in the doorway, staring at her with a bewildered, hesitant light in his eyes._

_“Ruth?”_

_He had a bouquet of balloons — they wouldn’t allow flowers on this floor — clutched in his big left hand. His right clutched the door frame._

_Her first instinct was to hold her newborn son close, to shield him from the touch of this man, whose hands had caused her more pain than pleasure. But then, what right did she have to keep a man from his own child?_

**_Boys need their father,_ ** _she thought._ **_Even if they are alcoholic sons-of-bitches._ ** _She turned the baby’s sleeping face out for Aaron to see._

_He moved into the room and crouched down by the side of the bed, smiling. It was an honest, sober smile, one she hadn’t seen on his face for months. “Can I hold him?”_

_“Wash your hands,” she murmured._

_He moved quickly into the bathroom to comply, letting the balloons skitter across the side table to rest in the corner.With damp hands, he took the wrapped bundle from her and nestled it into his arms, crooning wordlessly at him._

_“How about Samuel, for your brother,” he said. “He looks like a Samuel.”_

_She couldn’t help but smile. “I was thinking Noah, for yours.”_

_“Noah.” He glanced up at her, surprised. “I didn’t even know you knew about him. My Ma never talks about him.”_

_“Well, women like to share.” She watched him stroke the baby’s dark curls, his tiny feet, his butter-soft cheek. “She didn’t want there to be secrets between us. And it’s been over thirty years since she was pregnant with him, after all.”_

_“Huh. Just when I thought I knew my old lady, she goes and surprises me.” Aaron shook his head. “Yeah. I like Noah. And Samuel. Maybe one as his middle name.”_

_“They’re going to come in here in a few minutes to put him under the bilirubin lights,” she said. She could already feel the lack of him against her skin. “Can I have him back?”_

_“What are the lights for?” He passed the bundle back gently, remembering to support his head without being asked. Sometimes he almost seemed like a real husband, a real father, when the bourbon didn’t have a hold of him._

_“They keep their skin from turning yellow. High levels of bilirubin can cause brain damage in infants. Too much of something can be as bad as not enough.”_

_That was how it was with Aaron, she thought, watching him tie the balloons to a chair and try to sneak a cigarette. It was always too much or not enough of everything with him. If only she could figure out which one it was, maybe they could be okay again._

_When it actually came time to fill in the birth certificate later that morning, she told herself it was because it just sounded better._

_FULL NAME: Noah Aaron Puckerman  
_ _DATE OF BIRTH: July 12, 1993_


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holly gets a new roommate. Puck drives out to see Blaine before the beginning of the school year. Finn and Puck listen to Blaine's voice text of the Warblers singing "Teenage Dream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said to myself, while writing Dying In America, "Wouldn't it be cool if Shannon Beiste and Holly Holliday were roommates? I'd totally watch that situation comedy."

August 2010

Holly was in the process of shifting a large pile of papers off the coffee table and onto the floor just as a loud knock sounded. Startled, she spilled the papers across the carpet.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she sang, unperturbed, and clambered over the papers to get to the door. “On my way!” She stubbed her toe on the edge of the table and swore again. By the time she pushed the door open, she was stumbling and breathing hard. “Hi?”

The figure on the other side of the door peered at her dubiously. “You Holly? Am I in the right place?”

“Depends on what you’re looking for, but yes, I’m Holly.” Her face brightened. “Are you Shannon?”

“That’s me,” she said.

“Great! I’m also waiting for somebody named Brock to look at the stair stepper I listed on Craigslist, so I wanted to be sure.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like a _Brock?”_

“I’ve given up making assumptions about names.” She beckoned, smiling. “Come in, come in. Figgins said you were coming.”

Holly led the formidable woman through the door. Her eyes took in the room, sliding over the papers and dishes piled on the coffee table.

“I didn’t clean up,” Holly explained. “I figured anybody who wanted a neat apartment wouldn’t want to live with me. Best to be honest up front.”

“I’m not lookin’ for much. Just a place to sleep when I ain’t teaching. I’m thinkin’ I’ll be at school most evenings.” Shannon carefully placed her feet between the sea of wayward papers, moving through them until she stood before the kitchen sink.

“Seems like all teachers work late.” Holly slipped on her EDC 303 notes and almost toppled into the kitchen table, but recovered in time. “That’s what I’m studying to become. Hence the paperwork. I’ve been teaching Spanish at the high school all summer. It was a ball, I’ll tell you. Any tips for a newcomer?”

Shannon’s mouth twitched. “Start firm with your kids. You can always back off later when they know and trust you, but they have to start the year believing you mean it when you say something. If they can’t trust your word, your teachin’ ain’t worth crap.”

Holly inclined her chin. “Mmmm. I tend to focus more on relationships than rules. Although I have a couple I always start with. There they are, on the wall.”

Shannon reached out and touched the framed words over the sink. “Number one,” she read. “I’m not here to fix myself or anyone else. Number two, I’ll strive to balance positive with honest. Number three, I’ve got a voice and I’ll use it.” She grinned appreciatively. “Those are some good guidelines to live by.”

“They’re for my clients - I’m a therapist, mostly working with teenagers - and I wouldn’t ask them to do anything I didn’t believe in myself. I try to give them a framework for a life they can believe in, too.”

“Kids need some clear boundaries,” Shannon said, nodding. “Can I see the bedroom?”

Holly’s chattering didn’t seem to put Shannon off any more than the dirty dishes had. She responded to her small talk with ease. By the time they returned from their tour of the bathroom and bedrooms, Holly had learned that Shannon taught PE and coached football.

“I’m thinking you won’t mind me adding a little to the mess,” Shannon said, indicating the living room floor. “I do some crafting myself.”

“Knitting?” Holly guessed.

“Leatherwork.” She held out her arm and showed Holly the cuff snapped around her wrist, finely tooled and dyed in Celtic knots. Holly touched the cuff and offered some noises of approval.

“Totally not a problem. So…” She made an encompassing gesture. “What do you say? Roomie?”

Shannon laughed, shifting her hand to offer it to shake. Holly did so, beaming. Then she rummaged in a stack of folders on the counter until she came up with a not-too wrinkled copy of the sublease contract.

“Where are you teaching? Not here in Lima?”

“Yep,” said Shannon. “McKinley High. The football coach had to leave suddenly, but his record with the kids wasn’t that impressive to begin with. I’ll whip ‘em into shape.”

Holly gave a little clap. “Oh, McKinley! That’s where I was this summer! Will Schuester, the Spanish teacher, he’s a really nice guy. And Sue Sylvester, the other P.E teacher, she’s awful.”

“Is that right.” Shannon didn’t sound too perturbed. She waited while Holly cleared off a chair at the table and sat, digging a pen out from underneath a balled-up fast food wrapper. Her printing was clear and bold across the top of the contract: BEISTE, SHANNON. “I’m pretty good at holding my own against adversity.”

“That’s an excellent skill to have.” Holly crossed her arms thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t have to ask this, but I might as well be clear before you sign on the dotted line that this is a LBGT-friendly apartment.”

Shannon paused, eyeing Holly.

“I ain’t gay,” she said firmly. “People think because I’m strong enough to lift a trailer that I’m automatically gay. But I’m not. I love men.”

“No problem,” Holly said. “So do I.”

“I mean, sometimes they’re a pain in the tuchus,” Shannon went on. “I ain’t sayin’ it wouldn’t be convenient sometimes not to care about them.”

“Yeah, but we do.” Holly smiled and touched Shannon’s thick arm above the leather cuff. “I always have, even when everybody else thought I was a gay man.”

Shannon’s eyebrows went up to the top of her forehead and remained there. “A… gay man?”

“Remember what I said about honesty up front? That’s what I’m offering.” She held out her hand again, and after a moment, Shannon shook it. Holly felt herself relax under the grip of her hand. “If you’re OK with me the way I am, I think we’re going to be fine.”

* * *

Shelby was waiting on the porch of her new rental house as Puck crunched up the driveway in the Impala. He watched her smile widen as Puck lifted Beth’s carrier out of the back seat. He set her down just long enough to give Shelby a hug.

“Been a while, Noah,” she said, but her eyes were on Beth as Puck unbuckled her from the car seat. “Hey, peanut, look at you! You’re so much bigger than you were last week.”

“She’s wet,” he warned. “And there’s a tooth coming in, right up front. She’s biting on everything in her path.” He showed Shelby the little nub. “Watch your arm. She took a chunk out of Burt’s shoulder.”

He hovered for another moment before Shelby gestured toward the door. “Come in for a bit before you head back to Lima. Or are you going on to Westerville?”

“Yeah, I thought I would stop there on my way home.” Puck kept his voice casual, but Shelby obviously wasn’t fooled. Her smile over her shoulder as she held Beth was knowing.

“I have the feeling you’ll be doing that route a lot this year.”

“It’s only an extra hour. And Blaine —“ He shrugged, scratching his neck as he felt his face get warm. “Yeah, okay. Pretty much every weekend.”

“Trust me, I saw how the two of you were this summer.” Shelby ducked Beth’s grasping hand and pushed her hair behind her ear. “You’re still glowing. You miss him?”

“Not as much as I’m gonna miss this monkey.” He moved in close behind then and nuzzled Beth’s cheek, provoking laughs and babbles. “You sure you’re OK quitting your job?”

“I am so sure,” Shelby promised. “It’s done, they’ve hired my replacement. Dustin Goolsby’s not a particularly nice man, but he’s a very good director, and if he and Toby can keep from killing one another, they’ll produce an unstoppable choir by the time sectionals rolls around. So I’m the weekday parent; you’re the weekend parent. And you’re _going_ to keep up your grades.”

He wasn’t fooled by her severe look. “Trust me, I got Kurt and Finn on my ass about that.”

“I don’t want to hear details,” she reminded him, but she was grinning.

The car was a lot quieter on the way out of Akron than it had been on the way in. Puck put on the brand-new Katy Perry album and hummed along to _Teenage Dream._ It was pretty cool to hear a song on a CD that had been written using words he’d offered to the songwriter about his own boyfriend.

 _Someday,_ he thought, _I’ll hear Adam’s recording of the song Finn had him write about me._

He paused at the gas station to fill up his tank, and sent Adam a text of a picture of Shelby holding Beth. _For Daddum,_ he typed slowly. He knew Adam wouldn’t receive it until he was done with his visit to Boston Children’s Hospital, but that was okay. Kurt told him the word for their relationship was _asynchronous,_ and Puck was mostly used to it by now. It was Adam who suffered most. At least he had Angela to take care of him. Not that she was providing the kind of service that Puck would have given Adam, had he been with him on tour. Puck would have offered regular blowjobs, for one thing.

Blaine wasn’t waiting on the porch of his dorm or anything, but Puck called him when he arrived and Blaine came down to meet him at the benches west of the courtyard. They were under the shade of some mature trees, out of the way of prying eyes. Not that Puck really cared who saw him with Blaine, especially not in Westerville, but he knew Blaine didn’t want to risk any gossip getting back to his father.

He opened his arms as Blaine approached, and Blaine put a little speed into his step to arrive that much sooner. As soon as Puck was holding Blaine, he let out a relieved sigh, which was mirrored by Blaine’s.

“Better,” Puck said, his voice husky. Blaine just nodded, quivering a little as he settled into Puck’s embrace.

“Everything okay with Shelby?” he asked, his words muffled against Puck’s shirt.

“It’s gonna be fine. She’s with her mom. That’s almost as good as being with her Papa, or you.” Puck kissed Blaine’s head. “And I’m here, with you. I dreamed about you last night.”

“I dreamed about you, too.” It was a joke, because most nights for the past year, they’d dreamed about one another. Ever since he and Blaine had met at the dance club last year, somehow they’d remained in each others’ memories. Puck brushed Blaine’s cheek with the back of his hand, and Blaine leaned into the touch with clear appreciation. “I miss you all so much.”

“We miss you, babe. Kurt said to give you a kiss.” He did that, making it long and gentle. Blaine sighed into it, letting his body relax into Puck’s.

“That’s so nice.”

“Yeah. And here’s one from me.”

This time Blaine surfaced from the kiss gasping, nudging his pelvis against Puck’s jeans-clad hip. His eyes were glassy. “Yeah, that… that felt like it was from you.”

Puck placed his lips against Blaine’s ear. “I can’t give you what Finn has for you out here,” he whispered. “Not until we’re in your room.”

Blaine moaned, chuckling a little. “I can only guess what that might be.”

Blaine was calm today. There were things Puck could do for Blaine that would help maintain that calm — things he knew Blaine also got from Finn on their Wednesdays together — but it didn’t seem that Blaine needed them at the moment.

It wasn’t exactly true anymore to say that Kurt and Blaine had the romantic role in their foursome, or that Puck and Blaine were the sexy ones, or that Finn was in charge. They all shared all those roles now. This didn’t seem to bother Blaine in the least; on the contrary, he seemed nothing but delighted by the whole situation, if a little overwhelmed. Puck could relate: he knew exactly howincredibly humbling and totally terrifying it was to have so many people taking care of you.

Puck took Blaine’s hand and led him back to the rear exit door of the dorm. He squeezed Blaine’s hand once before letting him head back around to the front. It wasn’t more than another minute before Blaine was there opening the door from the inside, and two more minutes before they’d made their way up the rear stairs to Blaine’s dorm room.

“We have forty-five minutes before Trey gets back from the grocery store,” Blaine said, pulling the door shut and locking it with a firm click. He met Puck in the middle of the floor, his hands already tugging off pieces of his clothing. Their lips joined hungrily.

“I’m not wasting any of it,” Puck promised between kisses.

He didn’t mention Blaine’s collar. Puck knew without a doubt that was one of those things Finn would provide for him later that weekend. There was a limit to how far down Blaine would be able to go into subspace in forty-five minutes, anyway. Puck used his hands instead, holding firm to Blaine’s wrists as he placed him on his back on the bed and had his way with him. Blaine just watched him through it all, the love and amazement showing plainly on his face: _I get this?_ And Puck did his best to show him that yeah, _fuck,_ yeah, he did.

When Blaine got loud at the end, the way he usually did, Puck gathered him up with one strong hand and covered his mouth with the other, slowing down and drawing it out. By now he knew how to pace it just the way Blaine liked it, to keep him at that point just before coming for a good long time. Blaine’s frantic breaths, the way he was writhing and struggling in Puck’s arms, just served to inspire him to draw it out further, but eventually he couldn’t hold out any longer, and they collapsed together on the bed.

“Oh god,” Blaine panted, rolling over onto his back, “oh, god. You are the best… the most…” He shook his head and laughed helplessly. “I can’t add enough superlatives to that sentence.”

“Yeah, I know.” Puck curled up close beside him, grinning. He used the edge of Blaine’s sheet to pad the moisture off Blaine’s forehead. “You aren’t the only one feeling that way.”

“But I’m not _doing_ anything,” Blaine said. Puck had to laugh.

“You’re here, you’re real, and you react like that. That’s all I’m asking for.” He leaned in and kissed him on his temple, the way Finn would have done, and basked in the worshipful look on Blaine’s face. “I don’t want you to _do_ anything.”

“Just lie back and take it?” Blaine asked. His tone was joking, but his expression was so hopeful that Puck had to kiss him again.

“That’s right, babe. You’re gonna let me love you like that, I’m gonna do it, as long as you want it.”

“Wow.” Blaine’s smile broadened until it took up his entire face, his eyes shining. “That sounds like… quite a promise.”

Puck didn’t answer. He wasn’t the promise-making type, and there was no sense in pretending he was. He knew Finn was willing to make all the promises for the lot of them. Puck would be right behind every one of them.

They showered and got dressed quickly, just in case Trey came back early. He wished Blaine had gotten Jeff for a roommate this year. Jeff knew all about Finn’s disciplinary relationship with Blaine, and had even filled in for him on occasion when Blaine was falling apart and needed relief. The few times Puck had run into Jeff, he didn’t seem to object to Blaine’s suddenly acquiring two more lovers, so that made him okay in Puck’s book.

“How’s school going so far?” Puck asked. His own school hadn’t begun yet, but Dalton had started two weeks ago. Blaine shrugged.

“Things are fine here. At home, not so much. My dad and his partner Thomas, I think they’re breaking up. No surprise, considering my dad’s just as controlling with him as he is with… everything else in his life.”

Puck knew he meant _with me,_ but he didn’t push him. He’d leave that to Finn, and the paddle Blaine kept under his pillow. “That sucks. You like Thomas.”

“I do,” Blaine said. He directed his gaze out the window and smiled wistfully. “It’s hard getting attached to people. Seems like I end up missing everyone more all the time. You, and Kurt and Finn, your sister… and especially Bethie.”

“I’ll bring her soon,” Puck told him as he rose to his feet. “I’ll come by Friday night on my way home with her, if you want.”

“Yeah?” Blaine looked hopeful again. “I know that would mean we couldn’t… that we wouldn’t be able to do other things, but… I’d like that.”

Knowing that Blaine liked seeing Beth as much as he liked the awesome sex they’d just had made him feel inexplicably smug. _Check it out. My boyfriend digs my kid._

The ride home went by in a happy haze of singing along to Adam’s album and thoughts of their summer with Blaine. It seemed like a lot less than an hour and a half had gone by when he pulled into the freshly-paved driveway.

He carefully drove around to the side and eased his Impala into the rear garage. His car was the only one there. Carole’s station wagon was with her at work. Kurt’s Navigator and Finn’s Focus would have been parked in the other garage, the one around the front, but the Focus was at the shop for a brake repair, and Kurt had taken Sarah and Frances clothes shopping in preparation of the first day of school.

It wasn’t weird to be alone in the house of Sarah’s design, no matter how big it was. It honestly felt more like _his_ house than any other place he’d ever lived. The kitchen was entirely his domain, nobody had argued about that, and Sarah had let him outfit it from top to bottom. The back two upstairs bedrooms, for him and Beth, had their own staircase and their own bath. And then there was the basement.

Instead of heading up the stairs to his rooms, he went down to inspect the bare drywall and cement floor of the basement rooms. They were still unfinished, but looking around, he had some ideas about how they would come together. A music practice room, for one, big enough to house Finn’s drums (they were currently upstairs in Finn’s bedroom, but Puck knew he wasn’t complaining). Storage for Carole’s craft supplies, and whatever materials Kurt had set aside for future sewing projects.

Puck paused in the doorway to the room behind the laundry. There was space for a bath with a stall shower, but on the floor plans, the large space beyond was marked “Storage.” Finn had already started installing the double layer of insulation in the walls and ceiling. Reaching up with one hand, Puck ran his fingers along the reinforced joists, ready for hooks and other secure attachments, and felt a shiver. He was pretty sure there was no official designation on architect blueprints for “Playroom” or “Dungeon,”but it didn’t matter, because he knew how it was going to end up. This would be their own personal version of Carl’s studio - private, lockable and more secure than any space outside of Tessera.

He’d been uncertain about it the first time Kurt had brought it up. _Does that mean you won’t be able to cuff me to my bed anymore,_ he’d asked. Kurt had hugged him tightly and reassured him, _Not at all, sweetheart. It just means whenever you want to be really loud, you’ll have a place to do that without worrying about who can hear._

He knew what that meant. Puck was seldom loud, but _Blaine_ was, almost always. Kurt was as invested in Blaine’s comfort as he was in his own. This home would serve them in all possible ways.

He went back up to the first floor, then lugged his own weekend clothes and Beth’s diaper bag upstairs to do a load of laundry. His own room was still mostly bare. Nobody had pushed him to decorate, and he appreciated that. The bookshelf held his copy of The Missing Piece, along with the two trilogies of Griffin & Sabine stories. They hadn’t yet read the third book, or the second trilogy, but he was sure it would happen in time. His dog-eared copy of All the King’s Men lay beside his assortment of sheet music, and his guitar and the cardboard box containing his father’s collection of Neil Diamond records were at the foot of his bed. An Adam Lambert fan club calendar was tacked to the wall — it made him grin every time he saw it — beside the much-folded list of things he’d long ago written of things he wanted in a girlfriend, beginning with “hot” and ending with “forgives me.” In the corner was a desk from the Salvation Army; it held Finn’s old computer with the keyboard missing the J, since Finn’s room was already full of drums.

Puck didn’t boot up the computer. Instead, he opened his notebook and flipped past his scrawled menus for upcoming meals, to the pages in the middle that held his notes for songs. The original ideas for his song about Kurt and Finn were there, and the song he’d written with Sarah at Tessera last year. Most of what he’d been creating recently were tunes, but every now and then, he felt inspired to write lyrics. Finn and Kurt knew better than to ask him about them. If Puck had anything that was private in his life, it was that notebook.

He hadn’t written more than a few lines before his phone buzzed with a text. Puck wasn’t crazy about reading texts, but Blaine had a habit of sending him voice texts, and they felt like nothing less than little gifts in the middle of his day. He had to roll his eyes at his own sappiness, but he pressed Play and listened.

There was a lot of ambient noise of people talking in the background, but he could hear Blaine’s voice, too, sounding very much in control and in charge. _“All right, guys,”_ he said, _“just like we practiced. Ready? I’m recording. Hit the twos and fours hard, Trey.”_

Puck almost laughed, but once Blaine started singing, he just sat there with his phone in his hand and breathed. There were no instruments, just a whole bunch of boys singing all the parts.

_You think I’m pretty without any makeup on_  
_You think I’m funny when I tell the punchline wrong  
_ _I know you get me, so I let my walls come down_

Puck let his lips move along with the words, but he didn’t make a sound. The Warblers, singing perfect harmony in backup to _his_ boy, in particular _this_ song, inspired by his own description of himself and Finn, written by Finn’s cousin Katy, all tied together by Blaine’s incredible voice… it was hard to say if he’d ever felt more in love with Blaine than he did at that moment.

He was sitting so still and so focused that he didn’t hear the garage door close, or the shoes on the stairs. The knock on his doorframe made him jump. Finn stood in the hallway, his head cocked.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were going to be home this early. Could you take me over to the garage to pick up my —“ Finn’s voice drifted off as he caught Blaine’s voice, and he stood there, staring at the phone. “Is that…?”

Puck beckoned him into the room. Finn came over and sat down beside him on the bed, huddling close with a hungry expression. He looked at Puck, his eyes wide, and Puck nodded. They sat there until the very last _a cappella_ chorus:

_Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans  
_ _Be my teenage dream tonight_

“ _That was great!”_ Blaine’s voice exclaimed, amid whoops and cheers. _“I think we should —“_ The sound cut off.

Finn chuckled, shaking his head. He touched Puck’s wrist. “Would you send me a copy of that?”

“Yeah, sure, man.” Puck blinked for a moment, realizing. “He didn’t send it to you?”

“No, no,” said Finn, waving it off. “This is _your_ song. We’ve got lots of stuff we sing together. You know that U2 song, _I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For?_ He did that at Irene’s way back at the beginning, before we formed Labyrinth with Carl. And the Indigo Girls one, _Kid Fears._ Lots of stuff.” He smiled encouragingly at Puck, and Puck felt his shoulders settle a little with the approval. “You get to have this.”

“Yeah?” Puck gazed down at the phone. He wanted to listen to it again, right away. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

Puck shrugged. “Thinking this thing with Blaine matters so much. Who has this many big-deal relationships in one year? There was you and Kurt last October, then Adam in December, then _Blaine_ this summer…”

“It is a big deal,” Finn said quietly. He slid his hand up the center of Puck’s back to gently squeeze his neck, then moved it back to his shoulder. “He… he’s a big deal. For all of us.” He nodded at the phone. “You going to tell him?”

For a moment, Puck felt a wave of terror. “Tell him what?”

“What you thought about the song.” He glanced at Puck curiously. “What did you…?”

“Nothing,” Puck said hurriedly. He fumbled with the phone, tapping at the keyboard. _Awesome, babe,_ he sent.

“Puck.” The Voice was unmistakable. Puck closed his eyes.

“I — said something to him today. About being, um. Around. For as long as he wanted me.” When Finn just nodded for him to go on, he squirmed a little. “I don’t know. It felt like…”

“Like what?” Finn prompted, his voice still gentle.

He took a long breath. “Like a promise. A real one. Like… that one time with Kurt last January, when I told Kurt I wanted him to be my baby. And you were there, and I said it felt — like I’d kind of proposed, and you said —“ He couldn’t meet Finn’s eyes. “You said I should warn you if I was gonna do that. Because you’d want to get two rings.”

“Yeah.” Finn didn’t sound upset. “This feels like that?”

“Well, kind of. I think it was just then when I realized how I felt about you.”

Finn cocked his head, confused. “About _me?”_

“Yeah. That I wanted you to make those kind of decisions, for me.”

Now Finn looked completely floored. “You mean… if I proposed to Kurt, that would count for you, too?”

Puck relaxed, smiling. “Yeah. Because I’m already — I mean, I told you before. Where you go, I go, right?”

“Mine,” Finn whispered. He was still searching Puck’s eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it, because he reached in to cup Puck’s face before claiming a long kiss. Puck made a noise into his mouth.

“Yes sir,” he whispered back, when he could talk again.

Finn nodded, sitting back. His eyes were as serious as Puck had ever seen them. “What if I told you I already talked to Kurt about this, and told him it was too soon for us to think about getting married?”

Puck nodded back. _Yes, sir,_ was about all he could imagine saying, and he’d already said it. It all felt okay. Finn was taking care of it.

Finn cupped Puck’s hand in his own, cradling the phone containing Blaine’s song. “And… you know how I feel about Blaine, and about Kurt.”

He nodded again. This time Finn smiled, somewhat ruefully.

“Have you noticed the diamond anklet Kurt’s been wearing this summer?”

Puck thought about it for a minute, and nodded, slowly. He didn’t really notice stuff like that, but he could recall it now that Finn mentioned it.

Finn sighed, studying his lap. “That was from me, for his birthday. My not-engagement present to him. It wasn’t going to be a collar,” he added, at Puck’s look, “but I wanted it to be _something._ Something important.”

“So how do you know when you’re ready to do something like that for real?” Puck asked.

“I don’t know,” said Finn. “I think there has to be a reason. A reason to change what we already have. Not just because I don’t want him to leave or whatever. I mean… if he wanted to leave, he should leave.”

“What do you mean, leave?” Puck felt himself tensing up as his voice rose. “Kurt’s not leaving.”

“No, no.” Finn tightened his hand around Puck’s. “I don’t think he would. I’m just saying _he_ should be able to. He can make his own decisions.”

Puck suddenly realized Finn wasn’t really talking about Kurt. “But not Blaine. Blaine can’t make his own decisions?”

“I don’t know,” Finn admitted in a low voice. “I don’t know if he even knows what that means. Or if I would even offer it to him, if he did. I mean, how would it feel to _you_ if I told you you should make your own decisions about your life?”

Just the idea, coming from Finn, was so unexpected and appalling that Puck felt like he might suddenly puke all over the floor. As he began to shake, Finn let the phone fall to Puck’s lap and used both arms to wrap him up in a tight hug.

“I’m not doing that, okay?” Finn promised, right into his ear. “I’m not. You’re mine, and you always will be. No matter what.”

Puck took a few minutes to remember how to breathe, and let himself regain his equilibrium. “Yes sir,” he said at last. He felt Finn kiss his cheek, and whimpered when Finn pulled away.

“I have to get my car,” Finn said. It was kind of an apology. He stood up, holding out a hand. “You drive.”

It wasn’t a question, like the one Finn had come into his room to ask. This was a command, and just the act of obeying it made Puck feel better. But after they’d settled into Puck’s Impala, before he pulled out of the garage, Puck made himself look at Finn.

“If you ever stop wanting that,” he said, with an effort, “you… you should tell me. Okay? I don’t want you to be in charge of me unless _you_ want to be.”

Even as he said it, he recognized the incredulous look on Finn’s face. It was just like the one he’d worn himself earlier that afternoon, when Blaine had said _but I’m not doing anything, is that really good enough? You just want me to lie back and take it?_ He knew exactly what Finn’s look meant: _of course I want that, are you fucking crazy?_

Puck ducked his face, feeling his cheeks heat, and but he suddenly felt a lot calmer. He grinned as he put the car in gear.

“After we pick up my car from the garage,” said Finn, resting a confident hand on Puck’s knee, “I’ll show you just how _in charge_ of you I want to be.”


	3. Auditions, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoting therein from 2x01 Auditions, with several tweaks. There’s a lot going on in season 2 that doesn’t have anything to do with our boys… or does it? You’ll have to wait and find out. 
> 
> -amy

_There's definitely something missing in today's music, in the scene. We don't have a lot of men onstage doing flamboyant or theatrical. We have a lot of female pop stars doing it, but where are the guys, you know — where's that classic rock — or pop — showman?_

_-Adam Lambert on NPR’s All Things Considered, August 30, 2010_

<http://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2010/08/30/129529404/where-are-all-the-pretty-boys>

* * *

“I can’t  _believe_ Jacob Ben Israel’s gall,” Kurt snapped, wiping cherry slushy out of his eyes and flinging it to the concrete. “What made him decide Glee was the most important target — and I use the word advisedly — for his first day of junior year? Doesn’t he have his  _own_ life to deal with?”

Burt passed him a towel and patted the edge of the passenger seat of his truck.Still fuming, Kurt hopped into the cab and took a seat with his legs hanging out into the parking lot.

“Maybe you’re just mad you forgot to bring a change of clothes on the first day of school?” asked Puck.

“Puck,” Burt said mildly.

Kurt wasn’t pausing in his diatribe.“I mean, first of all, he starts following Rachel and Finn around, making them out to be the next big thing, and Finn hardly gets a word in edgewise — and, okay, maybe controllist _isn’t_ a word, but she doesn’t have to be so obnoxious about it. _We’ve been dating all summer,_ my foot. She’s been at music camp all summer!”

“Doesn’t having something with Rachel help him keep his low profile?” Burt asked.

“And then Jacob brings up the USA Today photo of Mr. Schuester and Toby kissing at the pride parade,” Kurt went on. “Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

Puck exchanged a look with Burt. “Because they were in the… paper? Which is public?”

“That’s beside the point!” Kurt hollered. He gritted his teeth, digging behind his ear with the towel to get the last of the slushy.

“He was convinced I’d had a vasectomy,” Puck told Burt with a grin. “I think he cut out the part where I told him I quit pool cleaning and took care of my kid all summer. I guess it wasn’t glamorous enough for his blog or something.”

“He hounded Quinn, too,” added Kurt. “And Santana, for god knows what. Did she really have a boob job? You know what, on second thought, don’t answer that. None of this matters.” He glared at his father, then at Puck. “None of this _matters.”_

“I know,” said Puck. He took Kurt’s hand. “We had the most awesome summer. And nobody cares. Isn’t that how we wanted it?”

Kurt tossed the towel on the floor of the truck and sighed more loudly. “This morning, Dave threw a slushy in my _face._ You’re asking me if this is how I want it?”

“Kurt, you’re just having a hard time readjusting after the summer,” Burt said. He was trying to be soothing, but Puck could tell Kurt wasn’t about to be soothed. “You’ve done this pretending stuff before, and you can handle this. Now go in and finish up your day. How does your schedule look?”

“Fine,” Kurt grumbled. “Lunch is next. The three of us have two classes together besides Glee. British literature and algebra. And I have French fifth period while Finn and Puck are in Spanish.”

“Sounds like it’s not so bad.” Burt patted Kurt’s shoulder. “There’s another change of clothes in the bag, just in case. I’ll see you boys at home.”

Kurt hopped out of the truck and watched his dad drive away. He scowled ferociously. “I didn’t even thank him for the clothes.” He glanced at Puck, who was holding out his phone. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Look,” Puck said.

Kurt focused on the screen of Puck’s phone as he called up the picture of Blaine under the trees, the one he’d taken the day before at Dalton. He watched Kurt’s face visibly soften.

“Better than funny cat pictures, right?” Puck gave him a hopeful smile. “See, life’s not so bad. Can we go to lunch now?”

* * *

Finn made an attempt to escape from government right at the bell and head up to the attic room, but Rachel caught him in the hall before he could manage to reach the staircase. She smiled and closed with him in a way that definitely said  _I want something from you._

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “The way I was in front of Jacob and the camera. I wasn’t going to turn down a moment in the spotlight.”

“I’m okay with that,” he said. “You can have it. I don’t want the spotlight. I’d just as soon it… light something other than this spot, actually.”

She smiled harder and placed a hand on his chest. “I missed you this summer.”

“I missed you too, Rach.” He tried to smile back, dodging to one side, but she held him back.

“I figured that little white lie I told about us dating all summer would throw them off the scent. You know.” Her voice dropped to a loud whisper. “About all your boyfriends.”

Finn winced. “Uh, yeah. Thanks for that. Rach, I really want to catch up, but I’m kind of —“ He nodded at the hallway. She finally got the hint, taking a few steps back, her eyes getting wide.

“You could come over after school,” she said at normal volume. It didn’t sound like she was pretending. “I’d like to hear about your summer.”

_No, you wouldn’t._ Finn was fairly certain Rachel wasn’t going to like hearing about his summer. He could tell her about Spanish class and parts of RENT, but he couldn’t mention anything about the Adam Lambert concert, not to mention hooking back up with her biological father. Not that she would know who _he_ was. She still thought her adoptive gay dads had provided the paternal DNA. Still, he didn’t want her to think he didn’t care. He sighed.

“Football starts today, but I could come over for a little while after that, before dinner?”

Her persistent smile made him more uncomfortable than happy. She kissed him quickly on the cheek, then drifted off backward down the hallway, giving him a little sappy wave before stumbling into a bunch of sophomores.

“Adding to your harem, Hudson?”

He turned to see Lauren watching him. Her tone was bored and she didn’t look all that interested, but he shrugged anyway.

“She’s my… exception.”

She mirrored his shrug. “Whatever. You don’t have to justify your tastes to me, no matter how bizarre they might be. I was just heading by the gym and I saw the new _football coach_ setting up her office.” Now Lauren’s pencil-thin eyebrows went up.

“Yeah, I know about that. I heard Six was coming to work here.” It wasn’t even the most uncomfortable way in which his after-school activities were suddenly merging with his during-school ones. That honor would have to fall to Ms. Pillsbury being his ex’s girlfriend. _Sort-of ex._ He shook off the confusion. “Her real name’s Shannon something. Beastly?”

“ _Beiste._ It’s French. Apt name. If she’s as hard on you guys as she is on her proteges, you’re in for it. Well… toodles!” She gave Finn a little wave that was a perfect ironic replica of Rachel’s and continued on down the hall.

Finn managed not to be stopped by any more people on his way up to the third floor. The key stuck a little in the lock, but he got the door open. The attic room was just as they’d left it in the spring; as Kurt had suspected, none of the janitors or anyone else seemed to be bothering with it. Brad had bequeathed it to them, and even though they had their own house now, it was still good to have a place at school where they didn’t have to be anybody other than who they were.

With a long sigh, Finn dropped into the chair by the window and took out his phone. There were two texts from Blaine. One was a snapshot of him and his roommate Trey in their uniforms, waving. Blaine looked completely calm and happy, but Finn knew better than to trust that expression. His hair was perfectly gelled.

_Back to pretending,_ Finn thought morosely.

“Remind me why this is a good thing, again?” he muttered to himself. There was no answer, of course, but he didn’t expect one. Even a haunted attic didn’t talk back.

The other text from Blaine was a lyric from a song, and it did make Finn smile.

_1 text - Blaine Anderson  
_ _8:26 AM - Sat by the river and it made me complete_

Blaine had sung that song for him the first time he’d visited their house, before construction had been completed — before they’d acknowledged the extent of their feelings for one another. Now, every time Finn went out to work on the landscaping or help his mom with the new plants in the garden, it felt a little like he was working on making a safe place for Blaine — for all his boys. _Somewhere only we know._ It wasn’t unlike Toby’s house, or this attic room at school, but the house and the yard and the garden were special. It was _his_ — as much as Kurt and Puck and Blaine were his.

He sent Blaine a reply: _I’m going to Spanish next. Four classes down, two to go. Love you, baby._

It wasn’t exactly a good sign that it was only the first day of school and Finn was already counting down the hours in the day. Summer school hadn’t been anything like this. At least next hour he would see Puck in Spanish. And then there was Glee, and then football, and then he could catch up with Rachel, and _then_ he could come home to Puck and Kurt and Sarah and his mom and Burt. That was everybody in his family but two: Bethie, who was spending her week at Shelby’s, and Blaine, who was too far away in Westerville.

_And Carl,_ added the insidious voice. Carl, who was officially his ex, but who’d still said _I love you_ on the phone on his way to Chicago, and who’d given Finn one really good night of memories and a lot to think about after the Adam Lambert concert in July. No, Carl wasn’t family, but he was… something. Finn just couldn’t figure out what that something was.

* * *

Nobody commented on how good Puck’s back-to-school lasagna was, but Puck guessed this was more due to exhaustion than disapproval. He let the silence stand, passing the crusty garlic bread down the table and back several times while everybody ate. Eventually, Carole put on a determinedly cheerful smile.

“So how was school?” she asked, and took a scoop of broccoli. “Sarah, you go first. Was eighth grade any different than the last one?”

Sarah made a disgusted face. “Is this a thing? Do real parents actually ask this question?”

“I do,” said Carole firmly.

Finn nodded regretful affirmation. “Just answer,” he advised her. “It’s easier.”

“No more Skypeing with Lauren this year, which sucks.” Sarah tucked her newly-dyed forelock of purple hair behind her ear. “Classes are the same. The kids are just older. Oh, except Marley Rose has apparently taken her eighth-grade mentor role a little too seriously. She’s terminally cheerful. I keep wondering what I could tell her that would scare her enough to stop trying to befriend me.” She sent a hopeful glance down the table toward Burt. “Tatenui, can I tell her we buried bodies under the foundation of the house?”

“No,” Burt said, grinning. “I’m sure you can be a lot more creative than that. Without resorting to the truth.”

“Oh, well.” She shrugged. “Then can I have Frances over for dinner tomorrow?”

Carole looked at Burt, then nodded. “As long as her mom says yes.”

Puck suspected that had been Sarah’s actual goal all along, and she’d just asked for something outrageous to make it easier for Carole to say yes. He could have reminded her that Carole actually _did_ say yes to things, and they didn’t need to manipulate her or Burt into doing things like that, the way they had with their own mother, but he decided to remain silent.

“How about you, Finn?” she went on, turning toward him. “How was football?”

“I don’t know yet. We have this new coach. She’s — uh, a friend of Carl’s. Maybe you know her?”

His mom went a little red and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Anyway, we’re not going to talk about that stuff at school, so…” He made a useless gesture. “I guess I’ll just do my best to pretend it’s normal.”

“That’s the spirit. How was Rachel’s summer? You were at her house this afternoon, weren’t you?”

Finn nodded. “I didn’t tell her about Blaine yet,” he said to Kurt.

“That’s up to you,” Kurt assured him. “You can bet none of us will be pushing you to play boyfriend-girlfriend with Rachel Berry. But you can if you want to,” he added, at the look he got from Carole. “What? I didn’t say anything bad.”

“Kurt,” sighed Finn, “you don’t get to make judgments about my friends as long as you’re rehabilitating _Dave Karofsky.”_

“Fine! Fine. Just — don’t expect me to be around when you _do_ tell her about Blaine. She’s more jealous than Quinn, and that’s saying something.” Kurt brushed his bangs back and chewed on a mushroom. “We sang that New York song in the courtyard at the end of Glee. I admit it was nice to sing with everyone again.”

The silence settled over them again. Carole frowned.

“Come on, school can’t be all that bad. It’s only the first day.”

Sarah looked at each of her brothers in turn, then back at Carole. “It’s just because being _here_ all summer was so much better.”

They all nodded glumly. Burt shrugged, setting down his fork.

“Well, sometimes, you’ve gotta do the thing you _have_ to do first, in order to get to the thing you _want_ to do.” He pointed at Kurt. “It’s an economical exchange, right? Work for pay. You do your homework, go to school, then on the weekend…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Puck knew Finn and Kurt were all thinking the same thing he was. _Blaine._

“When I go get Beth on Friday night, I can pick up Blaine and bring him here,” Puck said. He could feel his face heating up as he made the suggestion, but his voice was steady.

That made Kurt sit up a little straighter in his chair. “Would that be okay? Finn, what about band practice in Columbus?”

“I don’t think we’re going to do that,” Finn said slowly. “I’m not sure yet.”

“You’d be welcome to invite him to come,” Carole said, and Burt nodded. “We certainly have the space. As long as you all get your homework done.”

Everybody seemed a little more cheerful after that. While Kurt talked about French class, Puck got up to clear the dishes and bring out the raspberries and ice cream. He was still getting used to the way the new kitchen worked, where everything was kept and the quickest ways to get in and out of the dining room without interrupting people’s dinner. It was a little like figuring out a phrase in music.

He was distracted enough by this process that he didn’t notice Carole and Finn talking in the doorway until things had already gotten heated.

“I’m _not_ telling you that,” Carole was saying. “You know I like Blaine. I’m just saying I want you to be a little careful.”

Finn made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “Mom, I really don’t think you understand how hard it is, having him halfway across the state.”

“I _understand_ ,” she said, her voice tight. “And I also _understand_ thatyou have plenty of commitments right here. It’s not summer anymore. School comes first.”

“You know I care about school,” he said. He sounded more agitated than annoyed. Puck came over to stand very close beside him, and Finn laid a hand on the waistband of his jeans. “I _did_ school all summer.”

“Yes, and you did very well. That’s what I’m talking about, Finn. You did well because you focused on one thing. During the school week, the things happening right here — in this town, this house — this needs to be your focus.”

He paused, then let out a quiet laugh. “Are you sure you’re talking about me, here?”

Carole’s eyes flew open. Puck caught his breath at the uncharacteristic outrage on her face, but he didn’t move back from where Finn was standing with his arm around his waist. Finn just held his ground.

“Excuse me, young man?”

“I know where _you’ve_ been spending your weekends,” Finn went on, still quietly. “It’s a long drive to Columbus.”

Puck thought Carole might actually yell at Finn. He was definitely crossing a line, bringing up Carole’s not-so-secret visits to Irene’s. She’d been going down almost every weekend for most of the summer. All of the boys knew, and Sarah, but Puck wasn’t sure if Burt did.

Finn and Carole stared at one another for a long moment. But then Finn ran a hand over his face and sighed, looking down.

“I’m not saying anything bad about her, Mom. I’m saying — I’d think you would understand that sometimes it’s hard to focus on what’s in front of you.”

“I do know, honey.” Carole still looked angry, but she reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “I’m not saying it’s not going to be hard.”

Finn leaned his head over and rested it against Puck’s, just briefly. Puck felt it like a kiss, and he leaned back into him, letting his body take the weight of Finn’s burden.

“It’s not even so much about what I want,” said Finn. “It’s hard to think about Blaine being all alone at Dalton. He _needs_ us.”

Carole flickered a look into the dining room where Kurt and Burt were still sitting, apparently talking about French while Sarah interjected snarky comments. The space between the kitchen and the table was wide enough that they weren’t listening in on their conversation, although Sarah was looking up every few moments and watching them carefully.

“Sometimes it’s not a choice between having what makes you happy and being responsible,” Carole said, still holding his hand. “Sometimes being responsible for others is the choice that is going to make the difference, even if you don’t end up happy.”

Finn looked ambivalent about that answer, but Carole added quietly, “Finn. Don’t argue with me about this. You get a lot of say as an adult member of this household, but you’re going to have to let me put my foot down sometimes about things I think are important.”

Finn’s expression was not all that pleased, but he didn’t attempt to persuade her any further. Puck decided the dishes had waited long enough and returned to the table without Finn to clear away the ice cream. The arguing didn’t bother him. That had always been a normal part of his home life. It made him feel jittery, though, when Finn was unhappy and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Finn’s phone was sitting beside his chair. When Puck picked it up, it showed two missed calls from Rachel and a text from Blaine. He brought the phone with him into the kitchen and showed Finn the screen.

“Do you want to talk to Rachel?” he asked Finn.

Finn took the phone and grimaced, thumbing through the messages.

“Not tonight. She just wants to schedule more dates with me. I’m really not ready to explain Blaine to her.”

“Dating on a schedule,” said Puck, shaking his head. “I really don’t get that.”

Kurt moved in from the doorway to the kitchen to stand beside Puck, facing Finn. The three of them automatically shifted into a closed circle, their arms locking them into connection.

“Sometimes a schedule is useful, though,” Kurt said. “Like when one person doesn’t feel like they’re getting what they need. Blaine knows he’ll see Finn on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and he’ll be seeing you on Fridays and Sundays if you’ll be bringing him back with you when you pick up Bethie.”

Finn thought about this. “Do you want a day on the schedule for you and Blaine?”

“Maybe not a permanent day. I think my cheerleading schedule is going to be too busy and erratic for that. But I think Blaine would like it if we could each schedule a date night with him. And with one another, too.”

Puck thought about the message waiting for him on his own phone, the one he hadn’t been sure if he wanted to answer or not. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we shouldn’t start this week. My dad wants to meet for dinner, just me and him.”

Kurt’s hand tightened on his arm. “Oh. Do you really think you should —?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He looked at the floor. “Maybe? He’s been kind of… he’s been all right, these past couple times we got together. I think I’m going to try to let him attempt this dad thing. Even if he wasn’t crazy to hear about Blaine.”

“Well, I think I’d like to plan a date for you and Blaine,” Kurt told him. That made Puck smile.

“You do remember what happened the last time we tried to do date night? Things kind of blew up for us.” He chewed at his pinky finger, watching both of them. “Maybe Carole’s right. We should just cool it for a while.”

Finn zeroed in on Puck’s face. This had the effect of turning off Puck’s words and making him breathe a little faster.

“My mom just said we should focus on what we have,” Finn said evenly. “I think a little intentional time together would be… good.”

_Focus,_ thought Puck faintly. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, that sounds… yeah.”

Kurt gathered him up and breathed into his neck, holding him tightly until he was calm again.

“You’ll sleep with Finn tonight,” Kurt whispered.

“Yes sir,” Puck whispered back. Now that Beth was gone, he had no routine for his nights. Kurt had picked up on this and decided he would be in charge of where Puck would sleep. Sometimes Kurt chose for Puck to be by himself, which was fine, and other times he was with Finn or Kurt, which was even better. Sometimes Kurt told him to sleep in Sarah’s room, and that was good too, considering they saw a lot less of each other these days.

Finn finished clearing the table while Kurt led Puck into the kitchen, stationing him at the sink. He put a comforting hand on the small of his back, and Puck relaxed into Kurt’s strength. He felt a surge of gratitude.

“Thank you, sir.”

Kurt’s smile was pleased, which made the feeling ten times as good. “When you’re done here, call Adam. Then Finn will put you to bed.”

_Put you to bed_ , when it came to Finn, inevitably involved collar and cuffs. All of their beds had hooks embedded in the hardware now, so no matter where Puck slept, he could count on that being available to him. He nodded, and bent his head to the dishes.

He lost some time after that, as often happened when he focused on a particular task, like changing oil at the garage or singing in Glee. When he’d recovered enough to notice what he was doing, the kitchen was clean and Finn was leading him upstairs.

“Adam,” he managed, and Finn nodded, gripping his arm.

“After I get you undressed,” Finn murmured.

Puck wasn’t about to argue with Finn. He just stood quietly as Finn stripped off his clothes, one piece at a time. Once Puck was naked, he settled on his desk chair, resting his hand on Puck’s head.

“Go ahead,” Finn said, and smiled.

Puck fumbled for his phone and pressed the speed dial for Adam’s cell phone. It wasn’t easy to find him while he was on tour, especially considering he was currently in the midwest. At this point in the evening, Adam would already be in makeup and talking with fans, if he wasn’t on stage. But he made a point of carrying his phone with him as long as he was backstage, and if Puck or Kurt called, he answered. Tonight was one of those nights.

_“Honey,”_ Adam breathed on the other end of the line. Puck closed his eyes on the word, feeling it penetrate.

“I’m here, Adam,” he said. He could hear the background noise of the crew getting ready. He didn’t take his eyes off Finn.

_“I’m so glad you called. How was your first day back to school?”_

The only people on tour who knew everything about Adam’s current situation were Angela, who did a good job masquerading as a personal assistant, Tommy, who hated everything about Adam’s relationship with Kurt and Puck, and Crystal, his security guard who couldn’t care less about his personal choices. Puck wondered which of them were paying attention to what he was saying.

“It was okay?” he said, tasting the words. He hadn’t talked to anybody about his day. “It’s the same, really. We have a new football coach who’s in the scene. She’s not giving us an easy out, though. She’s making all of us start over and prove ourselves.”

_“Sounds like a valid plan.”_  gentle. Puck wished he could feel Adam’s hands on his skin. He wondered if they would feel as gentle as his voice sounded. _“Let me know how that goes. I’ll call Kurt when we’re done here. We’re in the middle of a goodbye soiree for Longineu Parsons. He’s taking off at the end of September. Isaac Carpenter is replacing him, though, and he’s amazing. It’ll be fine.”_

Puck didn’t hear any anxiety in Adam’s voice, but he knew Adam was good at masking it. He settled on the ground in front of Finn’s chair, resting a hand on his Finn’s thigh. His own cock was distractingly hard. Finn sighed quietly at his touch, letting his legs fall open a little.

“I’m gonna have dinner with my dad this week,” he said. It was always easier to tell the honest truth when he was under the control of one of his Tops. He heard Adam’s hummed response.

_“You’re going to tell him about Blaine.”_

“He already knows.” Puck tipped his head up at Finn, waiting for some indication about what he should do, but Finn just sat there, his hand resting on Puck’s head. Puck could see from his excellent vantage point that Finn’s cock was as hard as his own. He swallowed. “Finn is — I’m watching him, and he’s — ready for me. Waiting to touch. And I want to.”

_“I bet you do.”_ Adam sounded proud, not mad. Puck couldn’t have kept the truth from him any more than he could have pretended not to be turned on by it, but it was a relief to hear his relaxed tone. It made it easier to ask for the next thing.

“Can I — can I suck his cock? Please?”

“Yes,” Finn murmured, almost at the same time that Adam said, “ _Of course, honey.”_

It didn’t matter who he was asking, or who was giving him permission.Puck shifted forward on his knees, settling closer between Finn’s thighs, running a hand up and down the length of Finn’s jeans-clad thigh, watching his cock twitch. They made simultaneous noises.

_“I’m going to say good night, honey,”_ said Adam, still sounded completely loving. _“You be Finn’s good boy. I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”_

“All right,” he said, then added, “I love you,” just because he knew Kurt would have made him say it. Finn smiled. Puck hung up the phone and let it slip to the ground, then turned all his attention to serving Finn the best way he knew how.

_Finn’s good boy,_ he thought, letting his awareness slip away. In moments like this, he could almost believe it.


	4. Auditions, Part 2

Finn decided he didn’t need to pretend to want to see Six — _Coach Beiste,_ he corrected himself — and just waited outside her office until she noticed him. She gave him what looked like a smile.

“All right, Finn Hudson,” she said. “Come in and shut the door.”

He closed it behind himself and sat on the chair across from her desk. Through the window, he could see Puck and the rest of the guys in the locker room, digging into the stack of pizzas that had been delivered. The coach had a pizza box on her desk. She opened the box and shoved it toward him. They both took a piece.

“So go ahead,” she said through her mouthful of pizza. “You got something to say, then say it.”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “I just… I don’t actually know what to say. Hi?” He grinned tentatively. She smiled back with thin lips. “Is this totally weird?”

“This is totally weird,” she agreed grimly. “But I knew what I was getting into by coming here. You, and Jane — _Emma —_ and Lauren… I’m not gonna cross any boundaries, and you’d better not do that either, you hear me? This is strictly business. This ain’t Tib’s coffee shop, and we ain’t friends here. You kids, I’m your teacher, that’s it.”

“Yeah, absolutely. I got it.” He shifted in his seat. “I think I wanted to tell you I’m sorry about the pizzas. I’m pretty sure that was Coach Sylvester’s prank.”

“And your Glee coach, Mr. Schuester.”

“Oh — no, he wouldn’t do that. Coach Sylvester is pretty awful, but Mr. Schue, he’s a nice guy.”

“Hmph.” She looked less than convinced, but her expression had thawed a little. “He wasn’t happy to hear about the ten percent cut to his Glee budget, even though it was mandated at the district level.” She chewed as she regarded him. “You guys sounded good at lunch on that New York number. You always sing around school like that, just because?”

“Sometimes. It’s pretty awesome. Me and Puck and Kurt…” He paused. “And, uh. Patrick. He goes to another school.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “The four of you. You’ve talked about your boys in group, though you didn’t use names, but I know who they are now. Can’t say I ever expected to be coaching two of you. And Kurt’s really on the Cheerios?”

“He really is. He’s awesome.”

She leaned forward with a heavy sigh. “So maybe I shouldn’t warn you, but I’m gonna cut all of you from the team, start fresh.”

“Oh.” Finn swallowed his surprise, then nodded, taking another bite of pizza. “Okay, yeah.”

“You gonna give me a hard time for giving you a hard time? I don’t want anything that looks like favoritism. If people did find out about you and me knowing each other, it’ll be easier if —“

“No, I really get this,” Finn interrupted. “We’re… kind of good at pretending. I hate it, though.”

Her face was kind. “It stinks, having parts of yourself you can’t share.”

He nodded. “We’ve got a lot of people on our side, though.”

“Well, no matter how it looks from the outside, I’m one of them.” She stood up, nodding at the boys outside the window. “I’m gonna yell at you now. Go ahead and open the door.”

He scrambled out of his seat and went for the door, letting it swing open as the coach bawled some confusing comments about pigs and spaghetti. As he scooted back into the locker room, the rest of the team shared a commiserating grimace.

“Man, this sucks,” said one of the juniors. “She’s worse than Tanaka.”

“She’s just being fair,” said the new blonde kid. Finn nodded.

“I’ll have to prove myself,” he said. “Honestly.”

He could feel the impulse inside him changing, like a switch. _If I don’t have to lie,_ he thought, making his way through the hallway, _I’m not going to. Even if it’s hard, it’s better than pretending._

He found Rachel hanging Glee posters outside the girls’ bathroom by the physics lab. “Hey,” he said, taking the roll of tape as she stuck up the last one.

She gave him a delighted smile. It was a little distressing how easy it was to make her happy. He steeled himself.

“I wanted to tell you something.”

Rachel’s smile faltered a little, but she nodded, following him around the corner into the stairwell. He took her into a hug, letting her rest against his chest.

“What is it?” she said.

“It’s about my summer. I didn’t tell you the whole truth. The truth is… I met someone.” He felt her stiffen. “Somebody I told you about last spring, the boy from the other school.”

“ _Another_ boy?”

“He’s… Kurt was in RENT with him this summer. We were already, uh, friends, and then he and Kurt… and Puck. They all kind of fell for him.” He couldn’t keep some of the feelings from leaking out as he spoke. “And so did I.”

“Oh.” She didn’t move from within his arms, but she did stay very quiet.

“His name’s Blaine. He sings with his show choir at Dalton, the Warblers. He’s their lead, and he’s amazing, really talented. We’re all kind of… into him, a lot. And we miss him.” He took her shoulders and leaned her back far enough to look into her face. “I wanted you to know because I care about you, and I don’t want to have secrets from you.”

She nodded, swallowing bravely. “Thank you. Does he… I mean, do the two of you… the four of you, do that… thing you were telling me about? With the, um. The handcuffs?”

“Yeah,” he said. “He really needs that. Discipline. And Kurt and Puck do it with him, too. You’d have to ask them for details.”

Rachel let out a little unhappy laugh. “I don’t want details.”

“It’s not about sex,” Finn protested. That wasn’t quite right, but he didn’t want to dig himself any deeper by qualifying that. “Sometimes he just doesn’t know how to make a good decision — or he does something without thinking. Or he feels overwhelmed by all the stuff he’s hearing from his dad and his teachers and his friends. That’s how we help him.”

She took a step back, her eyes flickering away as she reclaimed her roll of tape from Finn’s hands. “I think I’d better put up some more posters.”

“All right.”

He didn’t say _I’m sorry._ It wasn’t going to be something he apologized for. Either she would understand, or she wouldn’t. He didn’t push for more contact, either. Letting her put some space between them was probably a good thing.

* * *

Bilal came out from behind the counter when Puck opened the door to Lazeza, smiling quizzically.

“Where’s your sister?” he asked. “And the baby?”

“Beth’s with her mom,” Puck said. “Sarah’s home tonight. It’s just me and my dad.”

Puck waited at a corner table, not really looking at the menu. Whatever he ordered would be good, but there was something about hanging out with his dad that gave him a stomachache. He gave his dad a wave when he came in through the door, but didn’t get up to hug him or anything.

“It’s good to have a little man-to-man,” said his dad. “How’s the little peanut?”

He tried not to bristle at his dad’s use of the nickname Shelby had for Beth. She didn’t look anything like a peanut. “Good, I guess? I don’t get to see her until Friday.”

His dad shot him a sympathetic nod over the menu. “It’s hard being away from your kid.”

Puck fiddled with his napkin. “How come you never told me about _your_ other kid?”

“How did you…?” his dad said, looking startled.

“Sarah told me, after you said this summer that you’d gotten four times the practice holding babies. Three Puckermans plus one more equals four. She didn’t tell me anything else, but she told me there was another kid.”

His dad nodded slowly. “He… it’s your brother. He’s a Puckerman, too.”

Another brother didn’t sound like the end of the world. Puck nodded.

“He’s living with his mom, finishing up middle school. His mom and I don’t get along so good, but I see him every month. Sarah sometimes came with us when we’d get together. She wanted to tell you about Jake, but I wasn’t ready, so you can blame me for that.”

“I’m not blaming you.” Puck was kind of surprised to find he didn’t.

His dad reached across the table, putting a hand on top of Puck’s, which was even more surprising. “Jake needs a good male role model in his life. And seeing you, how you’re taking care of Beth… you’re really becoming a man. I may not agree with your lifestyle, but the stuff you’re doing right now, Noah, I’m proud of you.”

The whole conversation was so bizarre, Puck wasn’t sure what to say. He just nodded.

His dad didn’t say much more until after Bilal had taken their order and they were partway through their chicken shawarma.

“I have this men’s group,” he said. “It’s kind of an interfaith thing, organized through the synagogue in Cleveland. It meets tonight, after this. I’d like you to come with me.”

“To shul?” Puck blinked. “You’ve been going to services?”

“This isn’t shul, but yes, I’ve been going a lot this past year. I know you went some, after your Ma passed.”

Puck could only think about the service he and Adam had attended in Santa Fe, where he’d said the mourner’s kaddish. He’d said it a bunch more times in the past year, mostly when Kurt couldn’t hear him, because he knew how Kurt felt about religion. He nodded.

“You think you might want to come talk with some other Jewish men about their experiences? They’re good guys, really. I think you’d like it.”

Puck couldn’t think of any reason to say no, so he agreed. They finished off the meal in a surprisingly companionable way. Then Puck got in his Impala and followed his dad’s truck across town.

They pulled into a church parking lot, but he didn’t think much of that. His dad had said it was an interfaith thing, after all. His dad beckoned him to follow him under the street light through a side door and down a half-set of steps into the basement.

“Here you go,” said his dad, indicating the room ahead of them where a group of about a half-dozen men were sitting together talking. They were of all ages, but most of them were younger than his dad and older than him. He paused at the doorway, looking at the brochure his dad handed him.

“Jews for Jesus?” he said dubiously.

“Give it a fair shot,” said his dad. “Just like you did with me, okay? They’re good guys.”

 _Not like your guys at home,_ Puck guessed his dad was really saying, but he tried to turn off the commentary in his head and just listen, the way he could do when Finn and Kurt and Adam were taking care of him. He came into the room and sat down in the circle, shaking hands.

“This is my son, Noah,” said his dad, and he sounded so proud that Puck could only smile.

* * *

It was after midnight by the time Puck rolled into the driveway, parking in the back garage. The frogs and insects were much louder at their new house than they had been in Kurt’s neighborhood. Puck climbed the stairs to his bedroom and immediately opened the window so he could hear them.

He took his phone out and sent a text to Blaine. _Home now._

 _Thanks for letting me know,_ Blaine replied immediately. _I know you’re a safe driver, it just makes me feel better to know you’re OK._

Puck felt the warmth in his stomach that seemed to be reserved especially for Blaine. It didn’t matter at all _what_ he said.

 _Yeah,_ he typed back. _OK if I call you?_

This was a strange enough desire that Puck had to wonder if he was under some kind of mind control. He hated talking on the phone almost as much as he hated writing. Not to mention he’d just left Blaine’s dorm a couple of hours ago — and he still wanted to talk to him.

 _Yes please,_ came Blaine’s reply.

Puck shucked his jeans on the floor of his room, turned off the lights and crawled in under the blanket. It was the one he’d brought back from Santa Fe for Kurt, but Kurt had asked him to keep it in his room.He listened to the frogs through the open window while the phone rang for Blaine.

 _“You really don’t have to call,”_ said Blaine when he picked up. “ _Not that I don’t love it.”_

“I know.” Puck couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face. “It’s not for you, it’s for me. I want to. Which is pretty weird for me.”

_“I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted some time away from me.”_

“Uh, no. Not actually wanting that. That’s kind of the opposite of what I want.” He thought about some of the things the guys at his dad’s group had said tonight, about what kind of person a man should be. _Honest. Selfless. Able and willing to provide and protect his family._ “I want… to take care of you.”

He could hear Blaine’s smile. _“Yeah?”_

“Yeah. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about it. I mean, I _do,_ but — it just comes naturally with you.” He rolled over onto his side, looking out the window into the night. With the lights off, he could just see the field and the trees on the horizon beyond. “That’s kind of weird, too.”

 _“Not a bad weird, though?”_ Blaine didn’t actually sound too worried.

“Not bad. I think I dreamed about all the things I wanted to do with you for long enough that actually doing them feels kind of normal.”

 _“Those dreams.”_ His voice grew even more hushed. _“I still don’t understand how that happened. Are you still having them?”_

Puck didn’t really want to tell Blaine that he’d been having bad dreams of late, not the kind that reminded him of the past, but the kind that told about a confusing future. Most of them involved a beach. In one of them he was flying an airplane. There was still another one with a large yellow truck.

“Not _those_ dreams,” he said. “Maybe now that we know each other, they’re not important anymore.”

_“I still have them sometimes. Mostly when Finn’s not here. In the last one Bethie was running around in this park in a big city, climbing up to the top of the play structure and jumping off.”_

“She’s gonna be able to do that someday. Jump and run and talk and everything.”

 _“I know.”_ Blaine sounded amazed. _“I wonder if she’ll sound anything in real life like she does in my dreams.”_

“I wonder what her first word will be.”

Blaine laughed. _“If it’s not Papa, I’ll be shocked.”_

Puck licked his lips. “I went with my dad to this thing tonight, before I came over.”

It hadn’t been the kind of thing he wanted to bring up when he’d only had a short time to see Blaine, but now he felt like he should. Blaine just made interested noises.

“He wants me to talk to his men’s group about being a man.” He let out a little embarrassed laugh. “Like my dad was ever the kind of man he wants me to be now.”

 _“Do you… want to give him another chance?”_ Blaine sounded both skeptical and hopeful, which sounded about right for how he felt about his own father.

“I don’t know. Part of me thinks I should, that it’s something he might be able to get right. Like, he’s not perfect, but I can tell he’s trying? Maybe that should count for something. And part of me is still expecting him to screw up tomorrow. But you know what? Fuck that, because maybe he’s expecting the same from me, and he’s still showing up. He _wants_ to show up, and he _is._ That’s better than he did for fifteen years.”

Blaine’s answer was slow in coming. _“I wonder if trusting him is a better risk than how it would feel to get hurt again?”_

“It would suck,” he said. He reached one hand out from under the covers and slid the window shut, muting the frogs. “No lie. But I can take it, whatever he can dish out. It’s different now.”

_“Because you have Finn, and Kurt, and Adam.”_

“And you,” Puck added.

_“You really do. I don’t know how much help that is, though.”_

“Are you shitting me?” he whispered. “Babe, you changed me from the day you met me. My whole life is different now.”

Blaine made some very satisfying breathless noises. It wasn’t so different from the way Kurt reacted when he was feeling strongly about something, but in Blaine’s velvety voice it was like the thickest custard.

 _Eggs,_ Puck thought dreamily. _He’s the eggs, and I’m the sugar. We’re creme fucking brûlée._

 _“I thought, when my dad came to the hospital, after I got attacked freshman year, and I found out about Thomas, that he was gay too… I thought that might be a turning point for us. I thought it was going to be different, that somehow he’d understand me because we had this thing in common. But so far, nothing’s changed.”_ He sighed sadly. _“I just want to be good enough.”_

“You _are_ good enough,” said Puck, as firmly as he dared over the phone. “Whatever he can’t see, that’s his own shit.”

It wasn’t enough, Puck knew, but it was as far as they were going to get tonight. Blaine seemed to understand.

“ _Thank you,”_ he said. “ _For calling me. And for, uh. For earlier.”_

“Anytime, babe. I’ll see you Friday.”

In the dark, in the strange silence of the new house, Puck missed the frogs, but he didn’t open the window again. Between school and his dad and everything, Blaine was dealing with plenty of shit, but Puck felt comforted because so much of it was the same shit he was dealing with himself. That had been another thing the men at his dad’s group had mentioned, he remembered. _You should be evenly matched, spiritually. Believers should marry other believers._ He appreciated that Blaine talked about their dreams with wonder, not skepticism. He’d never said _I believe in God_ to Blaine, but he thought Blaine would take that better than Kurt would. Not that there was any kind of a contest, but it made him feel comforted to think that other people might agree that he and Blaine might actually be good together.

He sighed. _If he were a girl. And if I wasn’t spanking the crap out of him. Actually, that might qualify as an appropriate biblical relationship._

Just for good measure, Puck recited the mourner’s Kaddish for his mother before he set his phone aside. It didn’t make him feel any closer to her, but maybe it was one way he could prove to her he was still a good boy, even if he wasn’t following her rules.

“Night, Ma,” he added, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Finn paused at the door to the choir room when he heard Rachel inside talking to Mr. Schue, Tina and Mike. It didn’t sound like a very positive conversation.

“I just love you guys so much,” she was saying. “I was wrong before. I don’t want any new members. I didn’t want anyone coming in and-and messing up our group dynamic. Tina, Mike, I mean, what if Sunshine can dance? Then your contributions to Glee will be even more insignificant than they already are now. I did this for _you_ guys.”

Mr. Schue was deadly serious. “Whatever your motivations, you need to make this right, Rachel.”

Finn held in his sigh and waited for Rachel to appear in the hallway. Then he joined her, walking beside her. She saw him, and immediately her shoulders relaxed. She smiled.

“What was that all about?” he asked, trying to keep his tone mild.

“It’s nothing,” she said. When he gripped her arm, she didn’t try to pull away, but instead stopped in the middle of the hallway. She didn’t look righteous. She looked… guilty.

“Don’t think about it,” he said swiftly. “Just tell me. Right now.”

“I —“ Her eyes were enormous, staring up at him. She gulped. “I sent a new student who wanted to audition for Glee to the wrong place.”

“Because you wanted her to go away?”

“I didn’t want things to change! I like it… the way it is.”

He could see her reassembling her bravado, but Finn already understood. He fixed her with his eyes, just the way he would have with any of his boys.

“Rachel, you’re not going to do this to people who want to join Glee. We need them. You totally need to hear Sam, the new sophomore. He’s got a great voice, and he can play guitar, and he has a sense of humor.” Sam’s deadpan joke about balls in his mouth had been awesome. “ _And_ he’s a threat to me, in football and in Glee. But I can’t think about that. It’s not about me, or you, or any of us. It’s about the team. We have to trust one another.”

Rachel did the deer-in-headlights look almost as well as Kurt did. “I —“

“Are you going to fix it?” he asked. She nodded. “All right.” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then patted her shoulder. He wasn’t about to give her a pat on the butt; Finn was pretty sure she would have punched him in the face if he’d done something like that. Then he walked away without waiting for her to join him.

* * *

Both Burt and his mom laughed at Finn's relating of Sam’s balls-in-the-mouth joke, too. Kurt looked completely delighted by the idea of inviting Sam to join Glee.

“I saw him,” Kurt said to Carole, “and he is _definitely_ playing for our team. Nobody who bleaches their hair is on Team Straight.”

She stacked the dinner dishes and passed them down to Puck, smiling. “I don’t know if you can make a judgment like that based on what somebody looks like, Kurt.”

“Anyway,” Finn went on, as his mother and Sarah cleared the table, “he’s got a killer voice. You’re way better than he is at impersonations, though, Kurt. I think he’d be great. But we have this situation with Rachel. Did you hear how she sent some girl to the wrong place to audition?”

“She’s threatened,” said Kurt.

“No, she’s threatened because of _Blaine,”_ he said.

Kurt put a hand to his mouth with a sigh. “Oh. You told her.”

“Yeah. And I don’t know what I can do about that other than let her decide if she can handle it.”

Kurt mused on this as he finished his last bites of pasta. “Well, maybe you can at least give her something to boost her self-esteem. She wants to know you think her ideas are worth listening to, even when other people dismiss her.”

“I don’t know if that matters,” Finn said. “I’m not exactly popular anymore. I’m not quarterback. I might not even be on the team. Coach Beiste is doing her best to make sure everybody knows I’m _not_ her favorite.”

“Even if you are.”

“Whatever. Maybe… can you cut me down when I make a suggestion in Glee?”

Kurt tapped his chin. “How about, _‘You’re not the Pied Piper anymore. Nobody’s going to follow you around thinking everything you do is cool.’”_

Finn made a face. “Harsh.”

“But effective,” said Kurt. He took Finn’s hand. “If you’re on Rachel’s side, you’re going to have to assume nobody else is going to be on _your_ side.”

He sighed. “Okay. I’ll take one for the team. I really didn’t anticipate cleaning up _Rachel’s_ messes.”

Kurt’s grin was wicked. “She could use a good spanking.”

“Kurt!” Finn yelped, over Kurt’s laughter. “She did _not_ ask me for that.”

“Well, if you recall, neither did I.” He leaned over and rested his cheek on Finn’s shoulder. “But you took the initiative, and after I got over myself, I was so grateful for it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think she would think of it that way. She’d say I was pressing her.”

“Oppressing?” Kurt guessed. Finn nodded. “Well, if you made it clear it was her choice to consent, or not, it wouldn’t be. It’s not like you’re making it a condition of your friendship. Relationship. Whatever.” Kurt flapped his hands. “Forget it. This is sounding like a worse and worse idea the more I think about it.”

Finn found Puck and Sarah standing at the sink. Puck was quizzing Sarah on her Spanish vocabulary, reading from a list taped to the window, while he rinsed the dishes.

“You really don’t have to rinse them,” his mom said. “The dishwasher is supposed to be good enough on its own.”

“I know,” said Puck. “It just feels better to do it first.”

She looked like she might object further, but Finn tugged on her arm, drawing her back into the dining room.

“It’s his routine, mom,” he said quietly.

She frowned. “But it’s silly. The dishwasher does it better and faster. He doesn’t have to wash them by hand anymore.”

“No, I know. It’s not about what’s better or faster. He’s got to have time to figure out what works, for himself.”

“You ready, Finn?” Kurt called from the family room.

“We’re going to plan date night,” he told his mom.

“Finn, I just wanted to tell you…” She did a gentler, mom-version of that make-sure-you’re-looking-at-me thing. “What you said earlier this week about me, going down to Irene’s. It’s not what you think.”

He squirmed a little. “It’s your business, mom.”

“I’ve been helping her with her business. She needed my assistance because she’s expanding the coffee shop, and she wanted somebody up here to be her liaison with the bank. She’s taking over an existing location in Lima.”

That made him pause. “Oh. Another Java the Hut?”

“Irene’s considering keeping the old name, the Lima Bean. Finn, I’m not judging how you live your life, but that’s not how I work. I’m not looking for anything from Irene other than friendship. All right?”

He nodded, feeling a little abashed. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

“I appreciate that. I didn’t want you to draw the wrong conclusions.” She smiled. “Have a good time planning date night. Don’t forget your homework.”


	5. Auditions, Part 3

Will was pulling out of the parking lot when Toby’s ringtone sounded on his phone. He put the phone to his ear. “Can I call you back when I get home?”

_“This’ll just take a moment, darlin’,”_ said Toby. He sounded sour, like he was describing a hate crime. Will paused, then pulled over to the side, turning off the car.

“Okay?”

_“Will, tell me you had nothin’ to do with the shit Sue Sylvester pulled on Holly’s roommate.”_

“I —“ He sighed, resting his head on his hand. “It was a bad idea.”

_“You think? Holly told me Shannon said you wouldn’t let her sit with you at lunch. And the pizzas? What are you, fifteen?”_

“This was about money, Toby,” Will said. “It wasn’t about popularity. This school already spends too much on their football team. Glee can’t take a ten percent cut in their budget. Not that _you’d_ know anything about that. You have enough money _and_ kids begging to be part of Vocal Adrenaline.”

_“This ain’t about how things are at Carmel, Will. This is about your school hiring a new PE teacher. You can’t stop the school from doin’ football.”_

“No.”

_“And you want your principal to go looking for a different replacement? How likely is it he’s going to find a better role model for the kids than Shannon Beiste? Did you know she’s national board certified? She was vice-president of her union at her last school.”_

“Okay, okay!” he cried. “I already said it was a bad idea.”

_“It was worse than that. It was mean. You ain’t that person, Will.”_

He closed his eyes. “No. I don’t want to be.”

_“If that’s the kind of spirit you’re puttin’ forth for your club, you folks better get used to losin’. In the meantime, I’ll be takin’ the evening off. Call me when you’ve figured things out with Shannon.”_

Will let out an explosive sigh, tipping his head back to stare at the ripped ceiling of his old station wagon. If this week had been an audition, he would already have known he’d blown it. _Thank god real life offers second chances — and so does Toby. Let’s hope Shannon does, too._

* * *

Kurt was the one who told Finn about Sunshine being recruited by Vocal Adrenaline. He went to talk first to Tina and Mike, then tracked Rachel down.   


When he confronted her about it, Rachel just quailed under Finn’s disappointed glare. He didn’t even feel bad about it, because she totally deserved it.

“What did they say?” she asked.

“Well, I talked ‘em out of giving you a code red,” he said. “They were pissed, and they had the right to be. What you did was bad, Rachel. We could have used Sunshine to beat Vocal Adrenaline, and now they’re just that much stronger. Toby and that new director, they’re going to crush us.”

She braced herself. “Just do it already.”

He paused. “What?”

“Discipline me.”

Finn choked, snatching his hands away. “ _What?”_

“We both knew it was just a matter of time.” She tipped her eyes up at him. He stared down at her, at a complete loss for what to say. She was just waiting — waiting for him to take the lead. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“I think you’re forgetting I’m already… taking care of three other people. You told me you weren’t going to — that we couldn’t do anything like that, as long as I was seeing them.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t like that. That it wasn’t sexual.”

Finn could tell she wasn’t _trying_ to seduce him, but her honest vulnerability and trust in him was having an effect. He felt a little dizzy. “It — doesn’t have to be. But for me, it… it is. That’s not why I do it, but… that’s how it feels, afterward.”

She furrowed her brow. “Do you mean that you punish them and then you want to kiss them?”

“Something like that,” he said weakly.

Rachel moved into his space and kissed him passionately. He kissed her right back. It had been a long time since he’d been turned on by her, by any girl, but he could feel the way what she was saying was resonating inside. It was like the way it had been at the beginning, when he was getting to know her and finding out about all the cool things about her. She was being brave, trying something new without any assurance it would work, just because she trusted him. That was — _hot._

“I did it for the team, you know,” she said. “I just, I-I love everybody so much, I didn’t want anyone else coming in and interfering.”

He sighed. “You gotta stop saying that, Rachel. I care about you and everything, but you gotta admit the truth. You didn’t do this because you love Glee Club. You did it because you love yourself more.”

She was shrinking again under his accusations. “Okay! I didn’t want anyone else hogging my spotlight, okay? I love it too much to let it go that easy.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “You get to be a star. You just can’t tear people down to get there — at least not _these_ people. This is, like, our family. We have to have their back as much as they have ours.”

She looked at her feet. “Do you think that they’ll ever forgive me?”

“They’ll come around. I think apologizing would be a good start.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. He reached down and tipped her chin up. She let out a little gasp.

“I meant to them,” he said, smiling, “but thank you.” He thought about adding _good girl,_ but it made him a little uncomfortable even in his thoughts. She was already looking like she might want to jump him right there in the hallway.

He kissed her once more, gently. Then she let go of his hand and stepped away.

“Where are you going?”

“The auditorium. I, um.” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “I just need a little time to myself. To think about this.”

Finn watched her go and thought about Puck and Blaine, how he was able to help them let go of their guilt when things had gone wrong. Rachel was more like Kurt. She held her guilt close to her chest.

He sighed. _I’m not going to think about her chest._

* * *

“I’m going to convince Mr. Schue to let us do Britney Spears,” Kurt announced, sitting back from his dad’s computer with triumph. “Once this Facebook campaign catches on, the pressure will be immense. You’ll vote for it, right, Finn?”   


“Mmm.” He didn’t look away from the front window. After a moment, he felt Kurt’s hand on his arm.

“He’ll be here soon.”

“I don’t know how you can be so calm,” Finn complained. Kurt just smiled.

“I think you taught me how to do that. Or maybe it’s the flogging you gave me on Tuesday. I’m just as excited to see Blaine as you are, Finn.”

“I know that. I guess I’m distracted. I’m thinking about what happened with Rachel today.”

Kurt’s smile gave way to giggles. They were pale by comparison to the hysterical laughter he’d produced earlier when Finn had told him what Rachel had asked for.

“I just can’t stop imagining the look on her face the first time you spank her,” he snickered. Finn rolled his eyes as Kurt produced an example of that face.

“Kurt, you can’t be making fun of Rachel. Especially if she and I — if I’m going to —“ He took a deep breath. “If I _am_ going to discipline her, and that is a _big_ if, you have to take it seriously. You have to take _her_ seriously.” He reached out and took Kurt’s hand, interrupting his hilarity. “Kurt, I’m telling you. She doesn’t need anybody else laughing at her.”

“I’m not,” Kurt began, still giggling, but he stopped himself and nodded. “Okay, Finn. I can do that. I think.”

“Baby,” Finn warned, and Kurt tamed his smile again. He made an X over his heart and nodded angelically.

“It’s just that Rachel is hard to take seriously sometimes,” Kurt said. “She’s so melodramatic. She says things with such _conviction.”_

Finn grinned. “Sounds like somebody else I know.”

He kissed Kurt’s nose, leaving him looking disgruntled and pleased at the same time. Finn was sure Kurt would have argued with him more if they hadn’t heard the garage door open. At that sound, both of them leapt up, heading for the back door.

When Puck opened it, Blaine shot past him and right into Finn’s arms.

“Oh,” Blaine murmured, burrowing his forehead into the crook of Finn’s shoulder. “I — I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Finn whispered back.

He kissed Blaine’s head again and again while Puck stood in the door, holding the baby carrier and beaming at them. Kurt took Puck’s hand and helped him bring Beth inside.

“I’m gonna take her upstairs and feed her before bed,” Puck said. “I’ll meet you guys in your room with the baby monitor when I’m done.”

“Do you need anything, Blaine?” Kurt asked.

Blaine surfaced from Finn’s embrace, then shifted over to hug Kurt. “No,” Blaine said, his voice quavering. “I have everything I need.”

Kurt clasped Blaine’s hand in his. “Then let’s go upstairs.”

* * *

“You know,” Blaine said, much later, after they were all comfortably prone on Kurt’s king-sized bed, “there is something I want.”   


“Again?” Puck rumbled, making him laugh. Blaine rested a hand on Puck’s thigh.

“Maybe tomorrow morning,” he said. “But, no, I’m talking about making music. I miss making music with all of you. Can we do that tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Kurt said. “Will you sing the Katy Perry song?”

“It won’t sound the same without the Warblers, Kurt. We can sing other things.” He looked up at Finn, sitting with his arm around him. “Do you think… maybe, we might ever sing with Carl again?”

Finn nodded thoughtfully. “He said he would like that, and I believe him. We can call him tomorrow and find out. Oh, hey, guess what? My mom said Irene’s opening a new coffeehouse in Lima! Maybe we could perform there.”

“ _The Lima Bean,”_ Kurt said. “It’s not as silly as Java the Hut, but I like it.”

“That’s great!” Blaine was smiling at Finn like he held all the secrets to the universe. “But you and Carl, that’s still, uh, on hold?”

“I don’t even know anymore.” Finn didn’t seem too upset by the admission, but Kurt would have attributed that to Blaine. There was definitely something magical about Blaine’s presence that calmed Finn down entirely. “I think there’s the possibility we can figure something out, but it would have to be in Columbus only. Or another city, maybe. If I wait until college, it’ll be easier. I mean, I’ll be eighteen this January, but I don’t know if that even counts for anything.”

They had all started to yawn. Puck headed back to check on Beth while Finn gathered Blaine up and took him next door to Finn’s room.

“Just come get in bed with me after they leave for football practice tomorrow,” Kurt told Blaine. “You can wake me up if you want to.”

“I think I might just crawl in and go back to sleep.” Blaine kissed him, long and slow, which was always hotter with Puck and Finn watching, then smiled and said, “Good night, Kurt,” in his formal way.

“Night, Blaine.”

As Blaine shut the door, Kurt sat down to do his moisturizing, an hour later than usual. He also sent a text to Adam. _Oklahoma tonight, Missouri tomorrow. Are you looking forward to New Orleans on Sunday?_

_Oh, god, so much,_ Adam replied immediately. _Though I’d rather be stopping to see you._

_Soon,_ said Kurt. Between Florida and Washington was Adam’s day off, and he was flying into the tiny Lima airport to spend the day with them. _Less than two weeks now._

_I can’t wait, honey._

Kurt felt the tiny explosion of joy he always experienced when he remembered, as he did a few times every day, that Adam loved him. _In the meantime, I’m immersed in the drama of high school again, and you’re sleeping in a different hotel room every night._

_Trust me, musician drama and high school drama aren’t so different. Someday I’d like to find a band to play with where all the people actually like and respect one another._

_Are you using the moisturizer I sent you?_

_And the eye makeup remover. You were right, my skin is a lot better._

Kurt smiled. _I’m not going to tell you how pleased that makes me._

_I won’t put you in that position, Kurt. Just give Noah a kiss for me._

He hadn’t set his phone down for more than five minutes before it buzzed again with a text. This time it was from Dave.

_What the hell is going on with Finn and Rachel Berry?_

Kurt had to mentally sit on himself to control his giggling. Finn and Noah and Blaine were just on the other side of the wall, after all. _I will never expose his secrets, no matter how absurd they may be._

_I never thought I would care this much about what Finn Hudson was doing with a girl._ There was a pause, and then, _Just tell me Blaine’s OK with it._

_He hasn’t said anything at all about it. I don’t think it would occur to him to complain about any of Finn’s relationships._

_If Finn starts ignoring him in favor of that — any — chick, I’m gonna kick his ass, I’m not kidding._

Kurt had to admit he liked Protector Dave a whole lot more than Hamhock Dave. _I have been instructed not to laugh at her. Maybe I can modify that instruction to be “not in front of Finn.” Would you judge me if I complained at you about Rachel sometimes? This is hypothetical._

_Fuck knows I complain to you enough about most stuff._

_I kind of like it. You give me permission to be snarky. Was this a bad day?_

_Not an awful one,_ Dave said. _On the bad-day-o-meter, I’d say it was about a seven._

_Any good things?_

Dave didn’t respond for a while. Kurt used the ebb in their conversation to finish wiping his face and setting out his clothes for tomorrow — the pink checked shirt he’d stolen from Blaine’s closet with the olive scarf he’d found at the thrift store on the last shopping trip with Sarah and Frances — and checked the Britney Spears Facebook campaign page one more time before he got more words from Dave.

_Only really nerdy things._

_You say that like it’s a problem?_

_Well, I don’t know.You hang out with all the music kids and your boyfriends are jocks._

_Dave,_ Kurt typed slowly, _I might laugh at Rachel, but I won’t laugh at you._

Sometimes it was easy to forget, in the midst of their frequent jabs and _ripostes,_ how sensitive Dave really was. Kurt definitely didn’t think of him as the boy who’d shoved him into a locker in January, not anymore.

_I learned the Feynman technique for understanding a concept,_ Dave said. _And that calculus means “small stone” because it’s about understanding something by looking at little pieces of it. And I started my PSAT study group._

Kurt wasn’t sure for a moment what Dave meant by the last one until Dave added, _You could come, if you wanted._

_You’re leading a PSAT study group?_

_I’m kind of getting paid to do it. My tutoring organization hired me._

_Ah, so it wouldn’t look like I was studying with you because I thought it was fun._ Kurt shook his head, smiling. _Thank you, I’d love that. Maybe Finn could come too?_

_Do I get to publicly humiliate him every time he doesn’t know a vocabulary word?_

_Gently,_ said Kurt. _He would probably tolerate that, though._

_Want to come to the observatory next weekend?_

_I can’t,_ Kurt said. He felt a pang of real regret. Dave so seldom invited him to do anything, he hated to turn him down. _It’s date night. Noah and I are going dancing in Dayton._

_Another Friday, no big. Study group starts Thursday at seven. The tutoring organization rents a storefront south of North and Main._

The location made Kurt’s heart stand still for a moment, because that was exactly where Davis and Carl had their office. He wasn’t about to mention it to Dave, but he could only hope they weren’t renting in the same building. _Thanks,_ he just said. _I’ll look forward to it._

Kurt turned out the light and set his phone on the nightstand. He put a hand on the wall between his room and Finn’s, and smiled. It was definitely better when he knew he could just walk into the other room to kiss Blaine whenever he wanted. Knowing Blaine was tucked in between Finn and Puck was almost as good as having him in his own bed.

* * *

Will nudged Toby’s leg with his shoulder. “Are you actually falling asleep while I’m doing this?”   


“Mmmm.” Toby lifted his head from the pillow and smiled lazily down at Will. “Maybe. But don’t take it as a slight against your technique, darlin’. September just kicks my ass. I’m exhausted.”

Will chuckled. He climbed up to rest beside Toby, two heads sharing the same pillow. “This isn’t a retroactive punishment for my stupidness earlier this week?”

“I told you, you made up for that. Holly said Shannon was impressed by your apology.” Toby intertwined their fingers, regarding them placidly. “You’re good at the make-up stuff.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He shook his head. “After the way Rachel treated Sunshine, you deserve to have her at Carmel.”

“It’s not about what _we_ deserve. It’s about what _she_ deserves. She’s not much of a dancer, but Dustin will absolutely put her center stage. Hell of a voice.”

Will stretched full length, then relaxed, staring up at the ceiling. “All this she-said-she-said gossip, though… I’m not crazy about that. You don’t have to tell me what Holly says Shannon says. She can tell me herself.” He poked Toby in the ribs. “And since when are you and Holly so tight?”

Toby shrugged. “I like her. And she’s got a way with her kids, I do say. Watchin’ Jake Puckerman during our dance lessons, I can tell he’s managing his anger better, communicating better. If she’s half as good a teacher as she is a counselor, she’s gonna take the high school world by storm.”

“She did a great job with Finn, that’s for sure. He made big strides this summer in Spanish.”

“Did you know she can sing? She was telling me about her voice coaching lessons, learning how to make her voice sound the way she wanted it to sound.”

Will grinned at him. “Isn’t there something better to talk about when we’re naked in bed than our friends and students?”

“I’m sure I can think of something,” Toby drawled. He gave Will a slow kiss, watching his face. “Do you miss him?”

Will dropped his eyes. Toby knew he didn’t have to clarify who he meant. Darius had been on both their minds since he left in August.

“Yeah,” Will admitted. “I do. He called me after work today, just to check in. I didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah, he called me a couple days ago.”

Will’s smile was a little twisted. “Made it harder and easier at the same time.”

“What, you figured we wouldn’t hear from him again? Maybe if it hadn’t been about feelings. I don’t think feelings go away for him either.”

Toby watched Will’s cheeks go a little red. “Maybe now he feels like can have something to hang on to.”

Toby nodded. “You okay with that?”

“Yeah, I think so? Being a — a way station for him. You know? If he’s on the road and he needs someplace to visit, I don’t mind that place being us.”

He raised a placid eyebrow. “You just want him to suck your dick again.”

Will gave his shoulder a shove. “You just want to watch.”


	6. One Year Old: 1994

_Noah could say “mama,” “dada” and “‘tar” by the time his first birthday rolled around. Instead of Timothy, he said “Meemee.”_

_“Like Beaker on the Muppet show,” insisted Timmy, who was four._

_Noah would follow Timmy around the house, just steps from full-fledged walking, holding on to furniture with his oversized hands and calling “Meemee! Meemee!” until Timmy would stop and pay attention to him._

_“He’s so annoying,” Timmy said often, but usually with tolerance and occasionally affection. And it was just as often that Timmy would find a quiet place to sit with Noah on his lap or next to him, “reading” him a book or showing him a pill bug he’d found on the ground or a snake. Noah would watch with wide eyes and attempt to hug whatever it was, then put it into his mouth._

_“Meemee,” said Noah, holding onto the banister by the front door._

_“Timmy’s frosting your cupcakes,” said Ruth, closing the dishwasher with one hip and kicking blocks back into the family room._

_“They’re blue, see?” said Timmy, holding up the Cookie Monster-hued frosting spoon. Noah moved a few steps closer and screeched his approval. Timmy finished blobbing blue frosting on the top of six chocolate cupcakes and climbed down from his chair to stand beside Noah, handing him the spoon. In obvious delight, Noah took it, waving it madly a few times before Ruth rescued it from his chubby grip._

_The front door crashed open loud enough to make Noah and Timmy jump. The figure in the doorway wore a furry blue mask and a black leather motorcycle jacket._

_“Is it time?” said the man under the mask._

_“Subtle, baby,” Ruth said, rolling her eyes._

_Timmy squinted up at the fuzzy-clad face. “That’s Daddy under there,” he said suspiciously. “It’s not really Cookie Monster, is it?”_

_Noah obviously hadn’t reached the same conclusion. He stared in rapt fascination. “Dah,” he said._

_“It’s Cookie Monster, sweetheart,” Ruth said. She watched carefully as Aaron got down on the floor but his movements were steady and he didn’t seem overly manic today._

_Noah stumbled forward and planted a wet, sticky hand on the blue fur. “Kitty.”_

_“Ma, he said kitty,” shouted Timothy._

_“I’m Cookie Monster,” Aaron said in a low, gravely voice. He really did sound like him._

_“Kitty?” Noah said again, more uncertainly._

_“I like cookies. Cooooookies."_

_Timmy giggled. “What about cupcakes? We don’t have any cookies.”_

_“They’re round like cookies, but they’re not as good,” Aaron decided. “You can eat mine. Come on, boys. Cookie Monster’s gonna sing you a song. You know any songs about cookies?”_

_While Aaron tuned his guitar, Timothy filled him in on the fact that C is for Cookie. They sang it three times, once in the Cookie Monster voice, once in a funny squeaky voice and once in a robot voice. By the time they got to the third one, Noah was dancing along, holding onto the arm of the chair and Timmy’s hand and his father’s pants as he bobbed up and down on his chunky legs._

_Ruth smiled, watching her three boys playing, and wished there was something she could do to make every day like this._


	7. Britney/Brittany, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for lots of well-intentioned emotional manipulation and Puck’s crisis of faith. Quoting in the next four chapters from 2x02 Britney/Brittany, with many minor adjustments. It’s fun to watch the episode and see all the overlap. 
> 
> -amy

For the past couple of years, Sarah had been going once a month to have dinner with her father. Her Ma would put her on the bus in Lima and she’d meet her dad at the bus station in Akron, and he’d let her pick the restaurant, and afterward she’d get back on the bus and come home. Noah had never gone with her, because he hadn’t been speaking to his dad at that point, but Timmy did sometimes when he was in town. She could tell her dad was making an effort to be a dad, even if it wasn’t much of one. That was about all she expected from him, so it didn’t feel disappointing when he screwed up.

One time, her dad brought Jake with him. He didn’t warn her in advance; he just showed up at the bus station with a sullen kid about her age and said, _Hey, Sarah, this is your half-brother Jake._ And Jake had just said, _I don’t care,_ and Sarah had laughed and told him he was like [that boy Pierre from the Really Rosie musical](https://youtu.be/hCEBLHd0v6I). Jake had looked perplexed, but Sarah found the a staging of the Carole King soundtrack on YouTube and played it for him. He’d been fascinated by the performance. He’d told her that he was a dancer, but he’d never seen a live stage performance, not like that. She asked him if would like to, and he made a face and he said _that stuff is for pussies._ She shot back, _what, you mean like our dad?_ He’d laughed hard, and after that, they were friends.

This would be the first time Sarah had seen Jake since she’d told Noah that their dad had another kid.She didn’t see any reason not to just come clean about this. When Jake showed up at the bus station, she gave him a little wave and said, “Noah knows about you.”

“Oh.” Jake thought about this for two seconds and then shrugged. “Okay?”

“You want to meet him?”

“Does he want to meet me?”

She shrugged back. She’d only mentioned Jake that once to Noah, and it hadn’t gone over very well. “He doesn’t ask for things.”

“Noah doesn’t always know what he needs,” her dad said. He nudged Jake with his knuckles. “But I’ll tell you what… I have some plans for Noah. Once those are settled, I think you’ll like him better. He’ll be more the kind of man you need in your life. A real older brother. How’s that sound?”

“Good?” said Jake.

Sarah thought this didn’t sound so good. Whatever plans her dad had, for anything, they were bound to be outrageously stupid. On the other hand, she also knew he’d had plenty of plans that had never gone anywhere, so what he was saying didn’t worry her all that much. She didn’t much like the way he was judging Noah, though, or the way he was trying to get Jake on his side.

When her dad went to the bathroom, she faced Jake. “Noah has three boyfriends.”

He scowled at her over his sandwich. “So?”

“I just wanted you to know. We live with two of them.”

Jake gave her a look. “What are you trying to do? I’m not homophobic. He can have as many boyfriends as he wants.” He ate a fry, then added, “You guys _live_ with two of them?”

“Finn and Kurt’s parents met because of them and they fell in love. When Ma died, Ta- Kurt’s dad decided to adopt me and Noah, so we wouldn’t not have a home. And you say homophobic things all the time.”

“I do not!” Jake insisted. “Well… maybe when I was a kid, but I know better now. _Toby’s_ my teacher, right? And I’ve got gay friends. And -- yeah. People can change.”

That was true. She thought about how Finn told her about the way they used to treat Kurt, before, and the way Noah had thrown other kids in dumpsters even after. He didn’t do that anymore. And the way her dad used to treat Timmy when he was a teenager. His dad didn’t talk to any of his kids like that either.

“I think people have to make reparations for the sucky things they did before,” she said. “Or else they can’t really claim they’ve changed.”

“Well, I’m sorry I ever called anybody a fag,” he grumbled. Then he looked up from his food and stared in the direction of the bathroom. “Oh. You mean —?”

“Dad. He’s doing something. I can’t tell if it’s reparations or if it’s just… more awful stuff.”

Jake nodded slowly. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see?”

Sarah hated waiting for anything, but she didn’t exactly have an alternative. “I think we should talk more, you and me.”

They exchanged cell numbers and email addresses. “I’m in Lima every two weeks,” he said. “For, uh. My therapist lives there now.” He looked a little embarrassed to be admitting this, but Sarah nodded.

“You could come over?” she said. “You could see the house I made.”

“You didn’t _make_ a house,” Jake said.

She grinned. “Oh, yeah. I really did.”

* * *

“All right,” said Ethan. He set down his copy of the New Testament book and looked around the circle of men sitting with him. “What did you learn from that reading in Ephesians about what Paul says about being a good husband?”

“It doesn’t say much,” Kyle pointed out. “All that old language, it doesn’t seem like it applies much to us.”

“I think the love they’re talking about applies whether you’re talking about friendships or marriages, though,” said Andrew. “How to love the way God intended. Selfless, giving love, without expecting anything back. That’s what we’re supposed to be going for, right?”

Puck turned the book over on his knees. His dad put a hand on his shoulder. “What did you think, Noah?”

It was hard to concentrate on reading under the best of circumstances. In this basement church room, without Kurt there to help him focus, he hadn’t gotten much out of the tiny little print in the book. But his dad was sitting there, watching him, and Puck didn’t want him to think he didn’t care, because he actually did.

“I guess I don’t like all these guys trying to speak for God,” he said. “If everybody says what they think, somebody’s going to get it wrong, and then people who read it will be confused about how to be a good boyfriend. Husband.” He shrugged. “I guess I can’t really be that.”

“Why not, Noah?” asked Ethan.

“Well, guys can’t get married to other guys.” He wasn’t going to get into detail about _how many_ guys were involved in the picture.

Ethan gave him a smile. It wasn’t a mean smile, or even a _you’re-stupid_ smile, but it wasn’t a _I’m-listening_ smile either. “Noah, you’re not gay.”

“No, I know, I’m not. It’s not about that.”

He shook his head gently. “You’re not the first boy to confuse the powerful love between two men with the love we feel for our wives. I’m here to let you know it’s okay to make that mistake. Sin will separate you from God. But as you develop your understanding of God, you’re going to start to realize what He really wants for you.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” his dad said. “He’s just confused.”

“No, I’m not,” said Puck. “How can what I’m feeling be a mistake?”

“Because it’s not about feelings,” Ethan said. His voice was placid and certain. It could have been irritating, but Puck found himself listening anyway. “It’s about making a commitment, in your heart, to doing right by God. Following the commandments isn’t always easy, but we do it because it’s the right thing. To love this way, in service to others… it’s the greatest fulfillment on earth.”

 _Service to others._ That, he could agree with. Puck nodded vigorously. “It really is.”

“So hang onto that understanding as you move forward, Noah. Don’t mistake sex for love.”

He sat contemplating his relationships with Blaine and Kurt and Finn and Adam for the rest of the evening, while the rest of them talked about First Corinthians. In some ways, what he did was all about giving without expecting something in return, which was what Ethan was saying was important. But he did a lot of _taking,_ too, didn’t he? Finn and Kurt, they took care of him, and that didn’t seem very much like what all those historical dudes did, or what Ethan said people expected Godly men to do. They did have a lot of wives, though, which made him feel a little better.

On the way out, Ethan came over to shake his dad’s hand, and then his hand.

“You looked deep in thought there, Noah,” he said. “Did you come to any conclusions?”

“I guess I’ll keep looking for ways I can be a better man,” he said. “I thought I was getting there.”

“Your dad tells me you have a daughter?”

Puck smiled. “Yeah, her name’s Beth. She’s awesome.”

Ethan nodded. “So, you might think about what kind of man you want to be for her. What does a father look like in the Bible? How can you use that to help you follow the path set down for you by God?”

Puck wasn’t sure what that had to do with being a good boyfriend, but he said he’d think about it.

His dad gave him a little shoulder-hug as they walked out to their cars.

“I’m really glad you decided to come back to group with me,” said his dad. “I think it’s going to be good for you.”

“Maybe,” said Puck. “I’m giving it a shot, anyway?”

“That’s all I can ask for.” He paused beside his door, keys in his hand. “Hey, what would you think about going away for a weekend? Just me and you. The J4J folks are hosting an adventure camp out west somewhere. They say it’s a blast. Hiking, orienteering, that sort of thing.”

“I might be up for that.” He almost added, _I’ll have to ask Mr. Hummel,_ but his dad looked so happy he didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Sure, yeah.”

“Great! I’ll get it all set up. You have a safe drive home, now. I love you, son.”

“Love you too, dad,” he said stiffly. It wasn’t easy to say, but with all this talking about the right kind of love, he felt like he should give his dad something, without taking away from him.

When Puck got into the Impala and checked his phone, there was a text from Adam.

 _Thinking of you on my way to the stage,_ it said. _Are you being a good boy?_

He swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat. “I’m trying,” he whispered.

* * *

Carl stuck the _Visitor_ sticker on his shirt and signed in at the front office. He reminded himself for the third time that he had every right to visit his girlfriend at work, just like every other couple he knew. He could certainly be professional about being there in the same building with Rachel and Finn at the same time. All the same, he checked the hallway carefully before proceeding down to Emma’s office.

He could see her through the window, talking animatedly to a curly-haired man seated in front of her. Carl decided that had to be Will. Finn had already told him so much about his choir director that the dearth of information from Emma hadn’t mattered.

“… he made me buy the green grapes and the red grapes at the market,” she was telling the man, “and then we just mixed them together in a bowl and we just… ate them. It was madness. Sheer madness.”

“Wow,” said the man, with heavy sarcasm.

Carl tamped down a surge of protectiveness. Emma had been making great progress, and he was proud of her. He didn’t like the idea of anybody belittling her accomplishments, especially because she’d been so brave about asking for what she needed.

“Laugh all you want,” Emma said primly. When she realized he was standing in the door, she gave a little jump, her eyes wide.

“Hey, now,” he said easily, closing the door behind himself. “Am I interrupting?”

“Carl, no.” She quickly rearranged two things on her desk and took a calming breath. “Hi. What — what are you doing here?”

“I thought I'd surprise you and take you to lunch.” He came over and gave her a quick kiss. “Oh, I do love that look of instant panic every time I try to change your routine.” He fixed on a bright smile as he turned to the man in the chair. “And you must be Will. Emma told me you're the cutest guy in school. Will, you grind your teeth?”

“I don't think so,” Will said, looking confused.

Carl could see the panic escalating in Emma’s actions, the way her hands were clasped in her lap. When he made eye contact with her, raising both eyebrows in a silent question, she gave him one desperate shake of the head. He was going to need to change his strategy.

With an unobtrusive motion, he made his phone buzz.

“Damn it,” he said, peering at the screen.

“What? What's wrong?” Emma said quickly.

“Another teenager needs a root canal,” he improvised. “I swear, not one student in this school is going to have their teeth by the time they're 30. Oh, the sugar kids eat today.”

Emma babbled something to Will about a seminar on dental hygiene while Carl monitored her stress level, watching it ebb somewhat. She wasn’t in imminent danger of an anxiety attack anymore. But now Will was talking to him. He drew his focus back to Will’s face.

“Why don't you come talk to Glee Club?” he was saying.

Carl paused. It took him a moment to realize Will meant he should talk to the glee club, not as a musician — certainly not as a parent — but as a dentist. He glanced at Emma, who looked stunned.

 _Glee club,_ he tried to say with his eyes, _with Rachel… and Finn?_

“Well, that would be a dream, Will,” he found himself saying. Emma’s eyes widened.

“Uh, Will, that would be… amazing,” she said weakly.

Will clearly thought he was being generous. “I’m usually pretty tight about our rehearsal schedule, but I think I can loosen the reins a bit for Carl.”

They joked about stupid things until Will finally left. Carl moved immediately over to stand beside Emma, placing a heavy hand on the back of her neck and holding her wrist with the other.

“I’m just taking your pulse,” he murmured. She shifted from foot to foot.

“Everyone can see everything in here,” she replied. “We can’t —“

“No, no. I won’t do anything for you. I didn’t intend to cause conflict between you and your colleagues.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly, “no, you can — I’m fine. Sir.”

He considered her with a steady expression until she settled under his hand.

“I’m not quite sure what I just agreed to,” he said. “I’m going to speak with Glee club about… dental hygiene?”

She glanced at her feet. “I don’t know what I was saying, I just panicked.”

He nodded. “Well, I suppose I’ll come up with something. I could tell Will was trying to make things easier for you. Everything’s okay with him?”

“Oh, yes, we’re — yes.” At his murmured command, she looked up at him. “Sir. He’s having trouble with his fiancé. Kind of all the time, but I don’t think it’s serious.”

“All right. You can make the appointment with Mark for me to come to speak with the glee club, and I’ll be there. I can play the easy-going boyfriend.” He gave her his most dazzling fake smile, the one that would have gotten him swatted if Tess had been there. Emma just smiled back, actually seeming to be dazzled. He wondered if she could tell the difference at all.

“Do you have anything more from me, sir?” she asked softly.

He felt a genuine rush of love for her, and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “Not until tonight,” he said. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

* * *

“So let me get this straight,” said Kurt, holding up the ripped jacket to inspect it in the light from the attic window. “Artie made the football team?”

“Coach said he did.” Finn was fluttering around him like an expectant father. “I mean, first she pretended she thought I was making fun of her and cut me from the team, but then she fixed that, and now I guess she’s trying to look like she changed her mind. Or maybe she really did change her mind, I don’t know. So do you think you can fix it?”

“Dave _ripped_ this in half?” Kurt said for the third time. “With his own hands? For crying out loud. That boy has more drama in his forearm than me and Rachel put together.”

“Kurt,” Finn said again, with a note of pleading.

“I’ll try, all right? I mean, there’ll be a seam, but I think I can make it look like there should be one there. I just can’t promise it’ll be exactly like it was.”

Finn sat heavily in the chair by the window and blew out a breath. “Yeah. I guess you can’t, really. Not when it’s torn up like that.”

Kurt slipped a finger inside the lining and inspected the edges. “You know what the word is for when you tear holes in a piece of cloth? It’s _rend._ Past tense, _rent.”_ He smiled a little at his own wordplay. Finn still looked too distraught to care. Kurt tut-tutted at him. “Come on, it’s just a jacket.”

“Yeah, but I earned it,” he said heavily. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get another one, especially considering Azimio’s making me his own personal punching bag. He spends all his time trying to get me to admit I’m bisexual. I wonder what he would do if I told him he was right.” He shrugged. “You think he’d give up and leave me alone?”

“Bisexual?”

Kurt didn’t mean to include that quaver in his voice, but it was there nonetheless. Finn looked up right away. He held out a hand, and Kurt came over and took it, sitting on his knee.

“Kurt-sexual,” he said, and smiled as he kissed Kurt’s neck above his scarf. Kurt let out a sound that was half laugh, half moan.

“I’m not trying to get you to label yourself any particular way, Finn,” he said. “It’s just the first time I’ve heard you say it about yourself.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not exactly right, but I guess _gay_ isn’t either. I mean, I’m not gay like you and Blaine are. And I still like boobs.”

Kurt shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

Finn’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He dug it out and looked at the screen, showing it to Kurt. “Dave?”

 _I’ll have to thank Artie for providing me with an out during that dust-up today,_ Dave said in his text. _He let me exit gracefully without hitting you back. I’m really, really sorry about your jacket. You can have mine, if you want._

Finn huffed in surprise, smiling a little. “Jeez. That’s… kind of decent.”

“Like I told you.”

 _Kurt thinks he can fix it,_ Finn typed back. _He’s awesome on the sewing machine._

“Hitting you _back?”_ Kurt added.

Finn chuckled. “Uh,yeah, I kind of… swung at Azimio. Which, I know, stupid, but I was so annoyed at him, with his mean girls routine and every rude name in the book. I mean, come on, he called Artie _the crippled kid.”_

Kurt frowned. “He’s just trying to provoke you. Notice Artie wasn’t the one swinging at him. He has a much better sense of self-preservation.” 

_If it doesn’t work, I want to know, all right?_ Dave replied in his text. He added, _Kurt’s not mad at me, is he?_

“I’m not,” Kurt said right away, but Finn just typed, _Come up to the attic and find out for yourself._

“I don’t want to get caught in that same phone-tag thing we did last week,” said Finn, putting his phone away. “Friends should talk to you, not through me. I don’t even know if I’d call him my friend, anyway.”

Kurt stood up and went to the door to wait for Dave’s knock. “You can call him anything you want to. You don’t have to be friends with my friends.”

There wasn’t any reason to pretend he wasn’t taking care of Dave, just a little, but it felt like an ordinary friend kind of taking-care, not like the way it was with himself and Noah or even himself and Blaine. Finn shook his head.

“You, friends with Dave Karofsky.”

Kurt just looked back at him, daring Finn to say something else.

“Friday is date night,” Kurt said eventually. “Dave wanted me to go to the observatory, but I said no. I feel kind of bad… but not bad enough to cancel a night at Masque with Noah. Carole already said she’d watch Beth on Friday night.”

Finn nodded. He looked genuinely grateful. “Blaine said he thought he could arrange some alone time for the two of us at his dad’s house, while he and Stephen are away.”

“I’m glad,” Kurt said softly. “He needs time alone with you.”

“Yeah,” Finn agreed. He dropped his gaze to his hands, clasped in front of himself.

Kurt nodded. “You really miss him.”

“Yeah.” The word was just a murmur. Finn cleared his throat. “I — I guess I didn’t know it was going to be this hard, being together all summer and then going back to seeing him once or twice a week. It’s stupid, how much I’m thinking about him. Wondering if he’s okay, what he’s doing.” He chuckled to himself. “I wonder if this is how Puck feels about Beth, thinking about her all the time.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

Finn turned his head to look out the window. “Maybe that’s how Carl feels about me, too.”

“Oh, Finn,” whispered Kurt.

Then the knock came, and Kurt put his hand on the knob. For a moment, he considered not opening it, but then Finn waved at him.

“Let him in,” he said. “I’m okay. It’s… not a new thought.”

Dave ducked through the door, a small man in a large body, and headed right for Finn where he was sitting by the window.

“Hey,” he said, then paused. His eyes wouldn’t land anywhere for long, glancing off and finding a new target every few seconds.

“Hey,” Finn said. He watched Dave for a moment before he sighed and set the ripped jacket on the floor by the chair. Then he stood up and grabbed Dave by the shoulder. “Hey,” he said again, and this time there was command in it.

Dave’s face immediately screwed up in a familiar expression of fury, but he didn’t move away from Finn’s hand.

“It’s —“ Kurt began, but Dave cut him off roughly.

“Don’t tell me it’s fucking okay.”

“Yeah. It’s really not.” Finn kept his Voice soft, but it was definitely there. Kurt could see Dave resisting it. “I was thinking, though, that I should say, _we’re_ okay.”

Dave’s gaze was fixed on the jacket now. He blinked hard. “Fuck.”

They stood there in that pose for about twenty seconds, Finn’s arm solid on Dave’s shoulder, Dave wavering between tears and non-acknowledgement that there was a hug waiting for him. At some point Kurt wondered if he should interrupt, because this was kind of a heavy moment between two people who weren’t even sure if they were friends.

“Kurt was saying about the observatory,” said Finn.

Dave blinked differently, this time at Finn.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding guarded.

“I’d like to see that some time. It sounds cool.”

Now Dave was definitely bewildered, but he didn’t look angry anymore. “Yeah, it is. I mean, sure. You could come. First Fridays are open to the public, but… well, my dad has the key, so I can go any time.”

“Is it like this place is for us? Kind of a sanctuary? Or is it mostly cool because of what you can see through the telescope?”

Finn was talking him down, literally. When Finn sat on the chair, Dave sat, too, on the floor next to him, much more gracefully than Kurt would have expected from a person that big.

“It can be,” Dave said. “It was, sometimes, when my mom and dad were fighting a lot. Now it’s more about the knowledge. I guess I like having access to the universe.”

“Access to the universe,” Finn repeated. “I like that.”

“Yeah, it’s really different from looking at pictures of space online. You’ll see, when you come.” Dave blushed suddenly, his cheeks going instantly bright red. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Finn insisted. “Maybe Blaine could come too?”

“Maybe.” Dave closed down at the mention of Blaine, but he didn’t say _fuck no,_ which is what he definitely would have said a month ago. He looked up at Finn with curiosity. “So… this thing with Rachel Berry?”

Finn laughed, which made Dave relax more. He shook his head.

“I like her,” said Finn. “She’s more of an outcast than anybody I know, and she hasn’t figured out how to fit in just about anywhere, and… she’s always giving it a hundred percent anyway. She knows what she wants. I admire that. And she’s really fun to sing with.”

Dave nodded thoughtfully. “You don’t think she’s just using you for your popularity?”

Finn laughed again, louder. “ _What_ popularity? I’m just another Glee loser now. I’m not even quarterback anymore.”

“She’s trying to figure out the difference between what she has and what she wants,” Kurt said. They both turned to look at him. “Well, you told her about Blaine. She knows what she’s up against now, but she’s also not going to take _no_ for an answer.”

Now Finn was the one who looked thoughtful. “The difference between what she has and what she wants?”

“I don’t think she’s above stepping on others to get what she wants. But I think she’ll listen to you.”

“Yeah… I think she will, too.” Finn wrinkled his nose, making Kurt laugh.

“You don’t want her to listen to you?” Dave asked.

Finn sighed. “It’s so much weirder than that.”

Kurt glanced at his phone as it buzzed, then did a double take at the text from Noah: _holy shit you’ll never guess whose in the choir room to give us a lechure about tooth brushing. Doctor fucking Howell._

“Oh,” said Kurt. He put a hand to his mouth. “Uh… Finn? I think it might be about to get a lot weirder.”


	8. Britney/Brittany, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More quoting from Brittany/Britney.

Carl set the basket of plaque disclosing tablets down on the piano, along with a case of toothbrushes and floss. “I brought props,” he told Will, who smiled. Yes, he could tell Will was definitely grinding his teeth.

“I’m not going to be able to introduce you to all the students when they arrive,” said Will, gesturing to the man behind the piano, “but this is my good friend and Glee accompanist Brad Ellis.”

Carl shook Brad’s hand, remembering Finn’s description of the largely-silent adult who’d procured their attic room for them. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m just here,” Brad said, waving his hand vaguely. “Will, I’ll do some filing while the presentation is happening.”

Carl opened his mouth to make another polite comment when Kurt appeared in the doorway, followed by Finn. They looked from Carl to Will, both somewhat aghast.

“Mr. Schue?” Kurt said in a strangled voice.

“I’m just on my way out the door to teach Spanish,” Will added to Carl. “If you don’t need anything from me before next period…?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Carl said. He purposely avoided Kurt and Finn’s eyes. “I can ask Emma if anything comes up. Okay if I wait here in the choir room?”

“Okay by me.” Will gave him a polite smile, then paused and looked expectantly at Finn. “Coming to Spanish, Finn?”

Finn blinked, refocusing on Will. “Sure… yeah, Mr. Schue, I’ll see you there.”

He stood there until Will had disappeared, then whipped his head back around to stare at Carl. The expression on his face could have meant _what the hell are you doing here,_ or it might have meant _I have no idea what to do now._ It didn’t really matter either way. But Carl could tell if he didn’t head this off, it might escalate into something unmanageable.

 _“Haz lo que yo hago,”_ he said sharply. Finn took a quick breath and rocked back on his heels. Carl looked at him steadily. _“Captas?"_

 _“Ya lo capto,”_ Finn said immediately. Then he spun and fled after Will.

Kurt was not the only one listening to their conversation. The accompanist, Brad, was standing in the doorway to the little office behind the piano. He looked at Kurt.

“Do you speak Spanish?” he asked curiously.

Kurt shook his head. They both turned back to Carl.

“I needed him to do something for me,” Carl said. _To do as I say — to follow my lead._ He had no doubt Finn would listen, no matter that they were at school, or that it had been far too long since Finn had been to his office for a session with the whip. He had a brief, dizzying moment in which he wondered if Finn was keeping up with the plug training in the absence of his Top, but he quickly buried those thoughts and smiled brightly at Kurt. “Do you have a class this hour, young man?”

“I — um. Yes. I have French.” Kurt took a step back, and then another. “Are you… here to do something with the Glee club?”

“I’m going to talk about taking care of your teeth,” he said. Kurt’s _what-the-fuck_ expression was much more guarded than Finn’s, but he was clearly just as confused and worried about the situation. “Your choir director asked me to come. I’m Ms. Pillsbury’s friend. I certainly wasn’t going to say no.”

“No, of course not.” This seemed to be enough to appease Kurt. He nodded. “I guess… I’ll be back in an hour, then. Bye.”

Brad appeared more amused than concerned by this entire interchange. He regarded Carl for a long moment.

“I take it you know these kids,” he said.

Carl had plenty of experience talking around questions like this. “I’m not sure what makes you say that.”

“Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

Carl nodded at the music on the piano. “Don’t tell me the kids are singing Christopher Cross in Glee club?”

Brad made a face that made Carl laugh. “Will is _very sure_ they should be doing more 80s music than contemporary pop. The kids would beg to differ. They want to do Britney Spears.”

“Mmm. And what do you think?”

“Me?” Brad looked surprised. “I — am a neutral party. I play what they need and I stay out of it.”

“Except you might have a few Britney numbers queued up, just in case.” He reached out a hand and slowly pulled the corner back on the sheet music stack, thumbing through to show the cover of the _Britney_ book. “I’m not so old that I wouldn’t recognize the picture on that cover.”

“I know plenty of musicians my age who wouldn’t.” Now Brad was trying not to smile. “You have a teenage daughter?”

“I do,” Carl said. “But that’s not why I recognize it. I’ve played in a couple bands over the past decade or two.” He tugged on the book, questioning with his eyebrow, and Brad let him slide the book out from under Christopher Cross’ _Sailing._ Carl flipped through the pages, then creased it to stay open on the page he chose and propped it on the piano. “We’ve got a little time. Unless you feel strongly about that filing.”

Brad laughed, obviously bemused. “No, no, this is better. Okay. Rock and roll.” He reached up and fiddled with the keyboard next to the piano, running through a couple different dance beats, until he settled on one that pleased him. He played the melancholy opening violin line on the keyboard, too, combining electronic and acoustic instruments into a seamless whole.

Carl began, keeping his tone light and breathy, like Britney’s. It wasn’t anything like the music he’d sung with Finn and Blaine at Irene’s last spring. It was more the kind of song he could imagine Adam singing, and that made him smile. Singing with Adam at Valentine’s Day had been a lot of fun - spending time with all of them, really. It was hard to admit, but Finn wasn’t the only thing he missed about being around that odd little family.

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64ovc5dRFE4>

_You took your love away too fast_  
_Left no chance to say, look back_  
_And now I know the truth, it makes it easier  
_ _Maybe when time goes by, I'll understand_

_Let's pretend that I moved on_  
_Then I'll tell myself that life goes on without you_  
_Open my eyes, look deep inside  
_ _I run away, I run away, I run away_

_You threw it all away, so blind_  
_Pushed me far from you in your life_  
_Now I know the tears won't lead to loneliness  
_ _Maybe when time goes by, understand_

_Let's pretend that I moved on…_

Brad brought it to a reasonable conclusion, and sat there with his hands on the keyboard for a long moment before grinning at Carl in appreciation.

“Jeez. That’s a lot more depressing than most of her songs.”

“Yeah, well, ballads usually are, right? Pick something a little more upbeat and I’ll join you on the guitar.” Carl stood up and got the electric from the stand in the corner. “You accompany jazz band too?”

“They have their own pianists. I’m only here part time. I teach piano lessons and take care of my kids the rest of the time. Well, when I’m not in California.”

Carl looked up from tuning the guitar, smiling. “ _You’re_ the guy working with Gaga on the new album!” Then, from the look on Brad’s face, he realized he would have had no way to know that. He turned his attention to tuning. “It’s, uh. Which one are we doing?”

“Do you play with Finn and Blaine?” asked Brad. Carl almost choked before he added, “In their band. Labyrinth. Puck told me about it.”

The meaning of the word _play_ Carl had been considering hadn't had anything to do with music. He tried to relax. “So you know them, too.”

Brad nodded back. “Puck babysat for me all summer while I was in California. He’s really good with my kids. And his own.”

He strummed a few chords, trying to figure out what he could say. “I — used to be married to Beth’s other parent. Shelby.” _Kind of._

“Wow.” Brad blinked. “That’s an unexpected connection.” He refocused on the music in front of him, and laughed, shaking his head. “Hey, did Britney really cover _this_ song?”

“She really did.”

Brad bent down and tugged a little monitor amp out from behind the piano, offering the cable to Carl. While Carl plugged in, Brad adjusted the volume until the guitar was loud enough to be heard.

“We don’t really have to keep it down in here,” he said. Brad looked pointedly at Carl. “Nobody can hear what’s being said in this room.”

“That may be,” Carl said, looking right at Brad, “but as long as I’m at this school, I think it’s good to keep it quiet. I wouldn’t want to disturb anybody’s learning.”

It wasn’t exactly the kind of song you sang quietly, but Carl managed to rock it out anyway. He didn’t bother to try to make his voice sound like Britney this time. If anything, it was more like the Joan Jett version than the original by the Arrows. Like most rock music, he’d been playing this one since long before Finn was born. But there was something that happened when a new musician played a cover of an old song. It made it easier to look at it in a new way. When he played the drums or guitar or sang with the boys in Labyrinth, it didn’t matter that Carl was approaching fifty, no more than it mattered that they were thirty years his junior. The music was an equalizer.

<https://youtu.be/M3T_xeoGES8>

_I saw him dancing there by the record machine_  
_I knew he must have been about seventeen_  
_The beat was going strong_  
_Playing my favorite song  
_ _And I could tell it wouldn't be long till he was with me, yeah me_

_Singing, I love rock and roll_  
_So put another dime in the jukebox, baby_  
_I love rock and roll  
_ _So come and take your time and dance with me_

Brad was actually singing along on the chorus when Kurt skittered in through the doorway. His eyes were huge as he looked from Carl with the guitar and Brad at the piano. They stopped playing.

“Hey, Kurt,” Carl said casually. “Brad and I were just talking about Lady Gaga and Shelby and things.”

“Oh.” Kurt’s mouth looked like it wanted to add a couple _things_ of its own, but after a few moments of silence, he just said, “Rachel’s on her way down the hall.”

“Well, then, I suppose I’d better put this away.” Carl lifted the guitar over his head, feeling the flutter of _Rachel_ in his stomach, and unplugged it before placing it carefully back on the stand in the corner. He went through a series of calming exercises — the same ones he’d taught Finn; the same that Tess had taught to him so many years ago.

By the time Rachel arrived, chatting with Finn, his face was neutrally cheerful. Finn did not look at him, in a way that seemed incredibly obvious to Carl, but he decided nobody else in the room would notice.

Emma and Will arrived next. They were both smiling, but their faces were showing a little strain.

Carl picked up the basket of plaque disclosing tablets and shook it. “Showtime!”

The rest of the club began to filter in. Carl could recognize most of them from Finn’s descriptions. Quinn sat in the second row near two other cheerleaders. The one with dark hair stared at him suspiciously.

“Are you a teacher?”

He smiled. “No, I’m a dentist.”

When Puck arrived, he ignored Carl, too, so Carl figured Puck had already been alerted to his presence. He sat next to Kurt, but they weren’t snuggling or touching in any way.

“Are we singing about teeth now?” asked the tall blonde girl.

Mr. Schue stepped forward. “Guys, let me introduce you to Carl Howell. Dr. Howell is here to talk to us about good dental hygiene. I know this is a little break from what we usually do, but I want you to give him your full attention, because this is important. You’re going to need good teeth if you’re planning to be performers.”

“Or eat,” added Carl. “Or open up those plastic packages, the ones that are impossible to cut?” He waggled his eyebrows at the suspicious dark-haired girl, who grinned back at him. “I’m kidding. You should never use your teeth to open those things. All right, so here's the deal.” He held up a plaque disclosing tablet between his fingers. “You chew this little capsule. Now, if there's any plaque you missed, the dye will stick to it and turn your teeth blue.”

The dark-haired girl raised her hand. “Can I just say that you are the hottest dentist I've ever seen?”

“I get that all the time,” Carl said.

“No, like, seriously, you can totally drill me whenever —“

“Santana,” Emma interrupted hastily. “Okay? Let’s… stay focused.”

“Rock n' roll, Emms.” Carl handed out the last tablet and returned to Will, clapping him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a manly way. “And besides, this guy? He’s pretty easy on the eyes too, huh?”

They all gave him a very familiar teenager look, the one that said, _you’re shitting me, right?_ Because of course none of them had ever flirted with or hit on their Glee club director. Carl mentally kicked himself and tried again.

“And you know what? No matter how hard I tried, I bet I couldn't sing and dance like him.”

Carl thought he heard a little snorting sound from the direction of the choir office. Emma smiled serenely, clearly too polite to comment.

“Uh, probably not,” Will murmured.

They chewed their tablets with predictable results; most teenagers were terrible flossers. When Rachel opened her mouth to reveal shiny azure teeth, Carl could only say, “Well, sometimes it's genetics.” He wasn’t going to mention Shelby’s bout with gingivitis when she was in college. He wondered if he could convince Leroy and Hiram to take Rachel in for extra fluoride treatments.

After following up with the students who had the worst plaque build-up, he invited everyone to come take a toothbrush and a spool of floss, then go to the restroom to brush away the tablet residue. In the midst of everyone’s movement, Carl came down the risers and found himself abruptly face-to-face with Finn. They both paused.

“Uh,” said Finn. He was already blushing. “Thanks for, uh, teaching us about plaque and stuff.”

 _I have so many things left to teach you, my boy._ Luckily, Carl had learned long ago how to control his physical responses to others. He handed Finn a card. Finn stared at it.

“If you want to make an appointment,” Carl said. “My secretary will arrange a time for you to come in and we can discuss… options.”

“O-okay,” Finn said hoarsely. “Thanks.”

Rachel returned from the bathroom with her usual shiny white smile, but she looked distressed.

“Dr. Howell,” she said, approaching him with determination, “I need to schedule a deep cleaning. This is unacceptable. My teeth need to convey exactly who I am to the world.”

“Don’t worry, Rachel,” he said, giving her a card. “We’ll make them shine as bright as the star you are.”

She beamed at him. He thought about the gold star tattoo on his shoulder, the one Alec had done for him when Rachel went to kindergarten. That made him think about the other tattoo over his heart, the triplet sixteenths with the accent and the fermata, matching the ones Kurt and Puck and Finn and Adam had. All of his tattoos meant something to him, even the stupid tramp stamp, but that one had been special. It still was.

“Well,” said Emma, once all the students had gone. She took a deep breath. “That was… educational.”

“Thanks for giving me the time,” Carl told Will. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your rehearsal schedule too badly.”

Will gave him a strange smile. “No, no. I can tell the kids got a lot out of your visit.”

He nodded. “You should come in to see me yourself, you know? I could do something about that grinding. And I’m sure you and I have plenty to talk about.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The YouTube link to what appears to be a male cover of Britney's song "[I Run Away](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64ovc5dRFE4)" is the actual Britney Spears song modulated down a fifth in Audacity. It might give you an idea of what Carl would sound like singing it. I think it actually sounds a little like Adam. Sadly, there is no cover out there of John Stamos singing Britney Spears, but at least we have [this scene](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L6_2UQHmgNs/TdJ8j1pyKbI/AAAAAAAAC48/a4Fa-8aCLqU/s1600/2x02_016.jpg) to inspire us.


	9. Brittany/Britney, Part 3

Kurt opened the door to the attic and paused when he saw Finn sitting on the mattress, his legs hanging off the edge. “Oh. I thought you had football practice?”

“I do. I’m just —“ He held up his phone, smiling sheepishly. “Waiting for a text from Blaine. I told him to stop studying and eat something before heading to Warblers practice, and he told me he’d send me a picture as proof.”

Kurt came over and sat beside him, enjoying the warmth of their legs pressed together. Finn gave him a lovely slow kiss.

“We got the wedding invitation from Katy today,” he said. “She added a plus-two, just like she said she would: _Finn Hudson and Guest and Guest.”_ He grinned. “Too bad it’s in India.”

“That was a really nice gesture of her, anyway,” Kurt agreed. He nodded at the time on Finn’s phone. “You don’t care about getting disciplined for being late for football?” He rolled his eyes at Finn’s expression. “No, I don’t mean _that_ kind of discipline _._ Of course your coach wouldn’t.”

“You know, she kind of does, in less obvious ways? Carl told me discipline is discipline, as long as it’s consensual. We’re definitely asking for it, showing up for practice at all.” Finn shrugged. “It doesn’t feel bad, anyway, when she makes us run laps or shames us or - whatever. We know we deserve what we get. But no, she’s not spanking us. Pretty sure she’s not allowed to do that. Though some of the guys could sure use it.”

Kurt snorted. “I’ve thought that sometimes too.”

Finn’s phone buzzed. When they looked at the picture of Blaine, they made simultaneous _ohhh_ noises. Finn laughed, shaking his head.

“Jeez. He looks —“

“I know. I take two hours in the morning to look that put together, and he just rolls out of bed and puts on his clothes and absolutely kills it.” Kurt touched Blaine’s uniform blazer with one finger, the smile on Blaine’s face as he lifted the forkful of pasta to his mouth.

“I love how you dress,” said Finn. “Do you wish I would work that hard to look good?”

“I’m not going to tell you how to dress. Mostly. I do like it when you wear the clothes I buy you.”

Finn typed _That’s my good boy._ Then he set the phone down in his lap and leaned his head back against the brick. “Rachel said something today. Something that bothered me. She noticed I upset, and it was because I was kind of missing, um… someone.“ He paused. “Does that bother you?”

“I told you, I understand. I miss him too.”

“Not Blaine.” His voice came out soft. “Carl.”

“Oh.” Kurt slipped his fingers into Finn’s hand and looked up into his eyes. “I don’t know. How do you feel about it?”

He laughed quietly, not smiling. “I feel — embarrassed. Just seeing him for half an hour in Glee was enough to put me totally off balance. Every time I see him I start questioning my decisions, and I _hate it._ ” The last two words came out with force. “I don’t _want_ to miss him. I don’t want to _need_ that from him. Plus, it’s dangerous. Look at what happened to Matt and Coach Tanaka. I know Carl said he has protections in place, that he’s covered if stuff ever came out about us, but I still…” He shook his head from side to side, slowly, regretfully. “I would never forgive myself if he got in trouble because of me.”

Kurt nodded. “Well, I have thoughts about that, but I want to hear what Rachel said.”

“Yeah. So I was upset, and she asked me what was wrong. She thought I didn’t like the banana bread she made me, but that wasn’t it, it was good. I mean, it wasn’t Puck’s bread, but I wasn’t going to say that, I just told her it was awesome. Anyway, I couldn’t exactly tell her why I was upset, so I asked her about the football thing instead. I don’t actually care about getting kicked off the team all that much, I know why the Coach did it? And yeah, maybe it’s a harsher response than I would given if I’d been in charge, but that’s her style. And Rachel said she felt kind of better about it, because if I’m feeling bad about myself, she gets to make me feel good. And she said she wants to be the _only_ thing that makes me feel good.” Finn’s face twisted. “Doesn’t that seem kind of…”

“Controlling?” Kurt suggested. “Manipulative? Codependent?”

“I guess?” He looked sidelong at Kurt. “I know you think she’s all those things.”

“No, I _know_ she’s all those things. You can still love her even if she is, but I think you have to be careful, too. And you have to set very clear boundaries. You have to let her know that’s not okay, to expect that from you. It’s not healthy, Finn.”

“Yeah.” He scratched his ear. “Well, I kind of didn’t stand up for her when Santana said mean things to her in the hallway. I feel bad about that. I’m supposed to be her protector, right?”

“She can protect herself,” Kurt said firmly. “You don’t have to treat her any differently than you would treat me or Noah. She’s not going to break because of a little insult.”

“Yeah. So now I have to decide if I’m going to go into his office or not.” Finn took a business card out of his pocket and held it up. It read _Dr. Carl Howell, D.D.S._

“Not the dentist office,” Kurt guessed. Finn shook his head.

“I haven’t been to seem him at all since Rachel got back this summer. It just felt… weird, after things picked up with us. She’s his _daughter._ And all this stuff with Ms. Pillsbury. I know they’re not really boyfriend and girlfriend, but —“

“I think they really are,” Kurt said. “Even if they’re not having sex. That’s not what defines a relationship.”

Finn looked baffled. “It is for _me.”_

“What does Carl call her?”

“His slave. He wasn’t having sex with Angela either.”

Kurt frowned. “I don’t think it’s the same as it was with Angela. Carl and Ms. Pillsbury, they’re cute together. They hug and kiss and all those relationshippy things. And I don’t think she minds.”

“No, but…” Finn paused. “I think she’s still in love with Mr. Schue.”

“Well, too bad for her. He has Toby.” Kurt watched Finn’s face. “Right? Too bad for her?”

“I don’t know,” said Finn, shrugging. “They were dating. I think Mr. Schue wants — that thing she doesn’t want from Carl.”

Kurt’s glare sharpened to laser-like precision. “Finn, Mr. Schue does _not_ want to have sex with Ms. _Pillsbury._ He has _Toby._ ”

“What is the big deal if he does? Look at _us._ Can’t he have whoever he wants as long as Toby is okay with it?”

Kurt put his fingers in his ears and shook his head. “No. No, I’m not listening to this. You know why? Because when Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were dating before, it was _pretend_ dating. But if he’s decided wants to _really_ date her, he’s going to end up falling into this it’s-easier-being-straight thing he always does, and Toby is going to get left out again. That is _not_ okay.”

Finn was looking more and more surprised. “Jeez, you’ve given this a lot of thought. I guess he does do that pretending-to-be-straight thing pretty well.”

“He’s going to have to get over himself if they’re going to get married.” Kurt rose to his feet along with Finn, and sighed, trying to calm himself. “All right. You’d better get to football practice.”

“Yeah, she might make me eat pizza and then run laps again. That was pretty gross.” Finn gave him another sweet kiss, which was almost enough to calm him down. “I’m going home to help Sarah make dinner. Noah’s meeting with his father again tonight.”

“Again? He’s been doing that a lot.” Finn held open the door for Kurt. “I wonder what they talk about when they get together.”

Kurt smiled as he breezed through the door. “I doubt it’s anything like what we talk about.”

* * *

Carl removed the tartar scraper from Will’s mouth and made a note on his clipboard. “Evidence of some grinding. I'll set you up with a night guard.”

“Fantastic,” Will said crisply. “Happy to do it.”

Carl paused, then sighed and set his clipboard down. “All right… can we stop this right now?”

Will stared determinedly at the ceiling. “What?”

“Well, this is clearly awkward for the two of us.” He grabbed the wheeled chair and sat down, moving so his face was even with Will’s. “All right, let's talk it out. Bro-to-bro.”

“Fine. _Bro.”_ Will leveled his gaze at Carl, but before he could say anything, Carl spoke again.

“Emma has feelings for you. Strong feelings.”

That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. Will scrambled for a foothold, but it was hard to feel in control of a conversation when he was the one sitting with a paper bib around his neck. “I — I have feelings for her, too. Not like you do, maybe, but… she’s really important to me.”

“The difference is she chose me to be in charge of her. To help her deal with her issues. That’s what I’m doing. It’s because I love her and I want her to be happy. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do.”

Carl shook his head. “I don’t think you do. What we have together, I know she’s told you some things. And it’s powerful, important. Special. But we’re not having sex.”

“I know. She told me that too.”

“That’s good.” Carl nodded. “Now, I don’t know what’s going to happen with Emma and me, but I know what we _want_ to happen. And if there’s no sex, we’re not going to get it.”

Will sat forward, the bib forgotten. “You mean she wants a baby?”

“We both do,” said Carl. “That’s important to us, just as much as helping her deal with her OCD. So far, she hasn’t shown any signs of wanting sex with me. I’m okay with that. But I’ve been trying to get her to name some other people who might be good candidates.” He tapped Will on the chest. “You’re the only guy who’s come up.”

He could only stare at Carl. “You want me to have sex. With Emma.” It wasn’t the first time Emma had broached the subject with him, but it was definitely the first time anyone else had asked on her behalf. Will wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“I’m just asking you to consider it.”

“What if I tell you that I don't think I could do that?” Will pointed at his own mouth. “Rinse?”

Carl reached over and handed him a paper cup. “Will, put yourself in my shoes. She came to me to help her feel whole again. She doesn’t want to go the surgical route. She _wants_ to have a man in her life who gives her that feeling. If I can’t help her with that, I’ll be failing her.”

Will handed the cup back. “Okay, fine. I’ll think about it. But the second she shows any kind of distress, I’m backing off. Deal?”

“Deal.” Carl gave him a little smile. “Now open back up. I want to continue this examination.” But it only lasted a few seconds before Carl was sitting back again, shaking his head.

“You know what? I got just the thing for you.”

He stood up and walked around to his desk, rummaging around in the drawer. The thing he drew out made Will splutter a little.

“Handcuffs?”

Carl handed Will the leather cuffs. They felt soft, softer than he would have expected, and they were a pretty maroon color with silver tooling. He gave Will a smile. “You’ve got to give her the control she needs, bro. I honestly think that's why you and Emma didn't work out. There's not a dominant bone between the two of you.”

“And you think putting her in — in _shackles_ is going to change that?”

“You gotta get ridiculous, bro. You gotta just start doing things to take charge of her for no good reason. You know, I used to get up at the same time ever day and have the same eggs. Then, one day, I'm driving the hybrid to work, I pass a Chevy dealership. The new Corvettes had just come in, so I stop right on the spot. I make a U-turn and I buy one. Now I take the top down, take Emma for a spin, she doesn't even care if her hair gets messed up.” He gave Will a look over his glasses. “You follow me?”

Will wasn’t exactly sure he did, but he nodded. It didn’t seem like a good idea to say no to that voice.

“Good. Just think about it. And let me know if you need any suggestions.” His smile widened. “I’m becoming an expert at throwing Emma off her game.”

Will quickly hid the cuffs behind his back when he realized Rachel was sitting in the waiting room.

“You all set?” he asked her as he checked out with the receptionist. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

“I’ve been taking herbal anti-anxiety pills and reading the unauthorized biography of Britney Spears to stay calm.” Rachel looked at him more closely. “Are you okay? Did you have a cavity or something? Is that… candy?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “I’m fine. Good luck.”

He put the maroon leather cuffs into the glove compartment of his old station wagon and tried not to think about them. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to know why Carl thought Emma needed to be controlled at all, but even less sure why Emma wanted him to be the one to do it.

 _I could have a baby with her,_ he thought. It made him light-headed to conceive of it. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what Toby had said.

He sighed, leaning on the steering wheel. He considered giving Toby a call, but he knew he wouldn’t pick up. _How do I know I’m making the right decision if I can’t talk to you about it?_

* * *

Rachel muttered a little, shifting in the chair. Carl reached over and adjusted the nitrous mask, giving her another hit, and she settled back into her comatose state. He resumed the process of heavy scaling on her teeth.

“You know, I can’t remember the last time we were this close to one another,” he said conversationally. “It’s not your fault. It’s not even your dads’ fault. They said this was okay because you wouldn’t be awake anyway, and you wouldn’t remember it. And anyway, I don’t know if I could be rational about maintaining distance if we saw each other all the time. Being at your school this week was pretty weird.”

He sighed and sat back in his own chair.

“Okay, that’s not the only reason it was weird. This thing with you and Finn, I thought I’d come to terms with it. I didn’t want to be controlling of him — I mean, yes, I _did,_ of course I did, but — not like that. Not about his relationships. He’s a capable young man, he can handle his own —“

He swallowed the word _subs,_ looking down at his daughter, still moving fitfully every now and then. Eventually he continued working.

“I remember when you were a little girl,” he said, “less than two years old, I think, but you already had a leotard and baby toe shoes and a little tutu. And every time we came over, you would put on a show for me and Shelby and Davis, and your dads and Mark, and you would insist that somebody had the flashlight on you the whole time. If one of us put it down, you’d stop dancing and toddle over and firmly put it back on you. You _required_ that spotlight.” He shook his head, smiling at the memory. “You were definitely in control. I honestly don’t think you would ever want someone in control of you. But then, I never thought I wanted that either, and look at me? I’ve got Tess.”

He brushed her brown hair back from her face, lighter than Shelby’s, the same color as his own.

“And don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t think he could do it. I think Finn could Top just about anybody he wanted to. He has the good instincts for it, and he’s building control, more every day. I mean, he was.”

Carl paused and held his hands very still until they stopped shaking, then continued.

“I’m sure he still is. So I think what I’m saying is… I want to give the two of you my blessing. Even if you never hear it. Even if he doesn’t want it.”

He disconnected the gas and deposited his instruments in the container to be autoclaved. Then he stripped off his gloves and took out his handkerchief, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose. Finally, he washed his hands and dried them thoroughly before reaching over and gently touching her face.

“Rachel? Rachel, wake up.” He smiled as she began to stir. “You Glee kids are impossible to work on. You're always moving around when you're under.”

“Daddy?” she said.

He froze, not daring to respond. Eventually she blinked and opened her eyes.

“Hey,” he said roughly. “You’re doing fine. Hiram will be here soon to take you home.”

She moved her jaw carefully. “Is this real life?”

He smiled again, a little sadly. “Yeah. I ask myself that sometimes, too.”

* * *

Kurt had never been sent to the principal’s office before, but he figured in this case he probably deserved it. He waited in the chair in the hallway outside the office instead of going in to bother Principal Figgins. Mr. Schue joined him shortly, frowning angrily at Kurt.

“Can we talk in _your_ office instead?” Kurt asked.

“No, Kurt. You crossed a line this time when you told me to _get a grip_ in front of Glee club.”

“I know. But I think we should deal with this ourselves. For one thing, Figgins isn’t going to care about me mouthing off to you in Glee. For another, I’m not going to tell him the real reason I did it.” Kurt looked up at him. “Because it’s about Toby.”

Mr. Schue paused, still frowning, but he beckoned Kurt to follow him. They went into his tiny little office outside the Spanish room and closed the door.

“What’s going on, Kurt? This isn’t like you.”

“You need to stop this with Ms. Pillsbury,” Kurt interrupted.

Mr. Schue stared at him. “How did you —?”

“I have eyes, Mr. Schue. I can see what’s going on. I see how she looks at you. Now I know you are going to tell me it’s none of my business, but —“

“That’s right!” said Mr. Schue. He looked completely offended. “It’s _not_ any of your business! What Toby and I do, and whoever we choose to date, is completely _our_ business.”

He smiled triumphantly. “So you _are_ planning to date her.”

“I didn’t say that. And Kurt, what if I were? Aren’t you dating _three_ people?”

“Well… four. Not that it’s any of _your_ business.” He brushed his bangs off his forehead. “But this isn’t about that, Mr. Schue. This is about Toby. You can’t just treat him like a— like you used to, when you were married to Terri. He’s going to be your husband, not your toy.”

“Kurt!” he gasped. Kurt held up a hand.

“You can suspend me later, but hear me out. Toby does not deserve to bear the brunt of your own uncertainty. I don’t care how you define your sexuality, where you fall on the Kinsey scale, whatever. The truth is, he loves you, and he’s making a commitment to you. If you’re not sure if you can deal with gay marriage, and all the challenges that come with that, you shouldn’t do it. But at least have the courtesy to tell him that. Don’t just substitute what you have with him for something with Ms. Pillsbury because it’s easier.” He took a deep breath and sat back. “I’m done.”

Mr. Schue didn’t say anything right away. He stared down at his desk, moving papers around.

“This conversation has crossed a big line, Kurt. Even worse than before in Glee.” His shoulders dropped, and he seemed to deflate. “But then, you and I have been crossing them all year. You’re Toby’s friend, and I’m… his fiancé.” He looked up. “It would be pointless to pretend he doesn’t matter to both of us. And given my history, I can see why you’d be concerned on his behalf.”

“Well.” Kurt tried to quiet the adrenaline that was still rushing through him. “That’s very big of you to say.”

“So what I’m going to tell you now doesn’t leave this room. Not with your boyfriends, nobody. All right? I’m trusting you.”

Kurt nodded, watching Mr. Schue warily. Mr. Schue sighed.

“Emma and I aren’t dating. But it might end up looking like we are to the outside world.” He sounded introspective, like he was figuring things out as he said them. “So if that happens, and I’m saying _if,_ I don’t want you to be concerned. Toby and I will work it out. Do you understand?”

Kurt nodded again.

“Now, I care about Emma, but… she’s not Toby. No one ever has been.” Mr. Schue’s face hadn’t softened. “I haven’t always treated him the way I should. We have a unique relationship. I can’t pretend it’s always easy for me to deal with. You of all people should understand this, Kurt.”

“I do,” he said. “But —“

“But you’re going to have to trust me, _and Toby,_ that we can work it out together. This has to come from us, without interference from our friends. Which isn’t to say he doesn’t need a friend like you. He really does.”

Kurt blinked back sudden tears. “You’re right. There’s nobody like him.”

“That’s not what I said.” Mr. Schue smiled. “ _You’re_ like him, Kurt. You’ve got that same incredible drive to be exactly yourself, and you don’t take any bull from anybody who says you should be otherwise. I’ve taught a lot of teenagers, and I’ve only ever met one other person like that. Hang on to that strength, Kurt. You’re going to need it to survive in this business.”

He rose from his desk, scribbling on a piece of paper, then handed it to Kurt, his face serious.

“I’ll see you after school on Friday for detention.”

“Mr. Schue,” he began, because that was his date night with Noah, but then he stopped himself and nodded. Noah would understand if they had to leave a little bit late. “Yes. All right. I’ll be here.”

* * *

It took Dave about five minutes to text Finn after he’d catcalled Rachel wearing her Britney Spears outfit. Finn hid his phone under his hoodie and read what Dave had typed.

_Apparently the gay guys do get the hottest chicks. And what I was doing? It wasn’t “personifying,” it was “objectifying.”_

_Rachel already corrected me,_ Finn typed back. _She’s just dressing up that way to get back at me for rejoining the football team. I don’t even like it._

That wasn’t completely right. Rachel had said _in order for this relationship to work, we can't control each other._ That was a pretty clear message that she was declining his offer to be in charge.

 _That’s completely stupid,_ said Dave.

 _She’s insecure and she wants me all to herself._ _I think she’s doing what Kurt said, pushing to see what she can get, even after I told her my boundaries._

Finn paused, looking at what he’d just written, because it had suddenly occurred to him that that was exactly what he’d been doing with Carl. Except in this case, they were his own boundaries, not Carl’s — and he was still pushing.

 _That’s really shitty of her,_ Dave said.

“You’re not kidding,” Finn muttered.

* * *

On her way back from lunch, Emma heard a familiar horn honk. She turned and smiled, expecting to see Carl in his red Corvette, but instead she found Will idling by the curb in a yellow one, identical to Carl’s.

“Will!” she exclaimed. “What is this? What happened to your car?”

“I sold it. He patted the seat beside himself. “Come here, hop in.”

She did as he told her, touching all the very clean surfaces of the car as he described how his old muffler had been like the shackles of Marley’s ghost. But before he could put the car into gear, _Terri_ was suddenly standing in front of them.

“Get out of the car,” she demanded.

He hopped right out. Will and Terri proceeded to have the worst fight, right there in the middle of the parking lot, while Emma sat in the yellow Corvette and felt as uncomfortable as she ever had. Eventually she got out of the car and walked away.

As soon as she reached her office, she called Carl.

“Will and his ex-wife just — “ she began, and then she started to cry.

 _“Emma, listen to me,”_ he said calmly. _“I’m telling you what to do. Can you hear me?”_

“Yes,” she sniffed.

_“Put the phone down. Get a cloth from your drawer and put some cold water on it. Wash your face. Then blow your nose and pick up the phone again. I’ll wait here while you do that.”_

Emma followed his directions. With each step, she grew calmer, and by the time she picked up the phone again, her tears had stopped.

“I don’t know why it bothered me so much,” she said, after she’d explained what Terri had done. “I know he’s never going back to her.”

_“Do you want me to tell you why I think it bothered you?”_

“Yes, please.”

_“Because you hate to see Will being weak. That’s not how you see him, and you don’t like what Terri does to him.”_

She felt herself start to cry again, but she stopped herself before it could get out of hand again. “That’s right,” she agreed. “I don’t see him that way. I want — I want him to be in control.”

_“I know. He might not be able to meet that need, Emms. Are you prepared to deal with that?”_

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She covered her face. “I’m sorry, sir.”

_“There’s nothing to be sorry about, baby. You’re such a good girl. You can want what you want. I’ll help you when it feels too hard.”_

She took a deep breath. “I don’t quite understand how you can be so nice to me when you know I — when I don’t want that with you.”

_“You get to say no to anyone. To everyone, if you prefer. About anything. I’m going to keep helping you until you tell me you don’t want to have a baby anymore.”_

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” she said.

_“Then I’ll help you for the rest of your life.”_

This time the tears came, and she let them fall. “That sounds like a — a very serious proposal.”

_“Yes, Emms. It is. You think you might consider that with me? Don’t answer yet. Just think about it.”_

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

_“It’s my pleasure. Can you come home a little early tonight? I’d like to do some shibari with you before dinner.”_

That sounded so wonderful, she didn’t know how to express it, so she just said, “Yes, sir,” again.

_“All right. You can spend five minutes rearranging your desk before you go back to work.”_

She smiled, feeling the tension draining from her shoulders, and shook her hair back. “Thank you, sir.”


	10. Britney/Brittany, Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The religious elements are getting heavier now. Warning for emotional manipulation, and some hard times for Will and Toby. I wish I could say it’ll get better, but it won’t any time soon. -amy

Coach Beiste waited in the doorway to the locker room, beckoning to Finn. “What’s the holdup, Hudson?”

“I had the wrong pads. Those were the ones for Artie. I’ll be right out, Coach.”

She nodded, watching him closely. “You’re not having trouble with my decision to choose Evans as quarterback, are you?”

“No, no, he’s a good player. I just want the team to win.”

“You don’t have a problem taking orders from somebody like him?”

He wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Somebody like… who? Because he’s a sophomore?”

“Forget it. I’m glad it’s not an issue. You’re a good leader, but it’s important that these guys know how to follow plays, not just follow a leader. Sam will run my plays exactly the way I tell him to. You’ve got too much initiative.”

“Uh… thank you?”

The coach laughed. “Yeah. Get out on the field ASAP, okay?”

She disappeared through the outside door. Finn settled the football pads on his shoulders and took a deep breath, but before he could follow her, Rachel was standing in the doorway. She looked around in curiosity.

“I always thought the boys' locker room would be all sexy, but actually, it smells like feet in here.”

“Uh, Rachel, you can't be in here.”

She held up a hand. “I just want you to know that I heard everything that you said earlier, and that I respect your needs, and I'll do anything to make you feel safe and happy.”

“All right,” he said slowly. “Well… thanks? I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Her smile dropped away. “I mean… don’t you want to make me feel safe and happy too?”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Rachel… I can’t _make_ you feel anything. You have feelings. I want to know what they are, but neither of us can control them.” He paused and thought that over. _I can’t control my feelings._ “But what I can do is tell you what I need. I need… um, that thing where I get to do my own stuff and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Autonomy?” she guessed.

“Yeah! That. I need autonomy.”

She looked pretty grumpy about that. “I thought you said you wanted to control me.”

“No, _you_ said I should do that. Which, Rachel, I gotta say… that’s not actually letting me control you. That’s you doing the controlling.”

“Look,” she snapped, “how am I supposed to trust that you really care about me if you’re with all these other people? How do I know I’m _really_ important to you unless you feel as jealous as I do? Let's face it, Finn, the only way that this relationship is going to work is if we agree to some rules.”

He was barely listening to her words. Instead, he took in the way she was clenching her teeth, tensing up her whole body as she spoke. “Okay… come here.”

Without thinking, he reached out for her and took her in his arms, clasping her firmly against his body. She didn’t struggle; on the contrary, she settled right down.

He leaned down and spoke quietly into her ear. “This is how it’s gonna happen. I’m going to continue my own relationships, just as they are. There might even be more of them. I might tell you, and I might not. I’ll be as honest as I can, but some people’s secrets aren’t mine to tell. I’m going to be safe. You and me, we’re going to talk, and we’re going to listen to one another, and we’re going to be honest with our feelings. Sometimes it’s going to be hard. But we’re going to trust one another because that’s what people do when they love each other.”

Rachel stroked his arm uncertainly. “That’s very… _progressive,_ Finn. And romantic. But… I don’t know.”

Finn sighed. “Rachel, you can’t ask me to choose between you and everybody else.”

She looked up at him resolutely. “Well, I am.”

He watched her walk out with a sense of regret. _Then that’s going to have to be the end for us._

* * *

Puck paused by Finn’s locker on the way out the door, jingling the keys to the Impala. Finn looked up. “You’re heading out early? Aren’t you coming to Glee?”

“I’m getting on the road to Akron now to beat the traffic.”

Finn looked like he wanted to say more, but he just remarked, “You’re racking up a lot of miles on that car to spend time with your dad.”

“Yeah. He’s trying, and I’m trying to let him. What’s going on? You look like somebody kicked your puppy.”

“I don’t know,” Finn admitted. “Something weird is happening. Quinn asked me if I wanted to get back together.”

Puck raised both eyebrows. “O-kay? I mean… she knows about you and me and Kurt, right?”

“I thought she was on our side,” said Finn. “She said she was, anyway.”

“So what did you tell her?”

“Well, there were all these people around, so I just said I’m in love with somebody else and that I think she knows who that is.” He shrugged. “I guess that was all I could do?”

“And was Rachel standing there watching you the whole time?”

“I don’t think so? What, you think she put Quinn up to that?” He made a face. “Rachel wouldn’t do that.”

Puck patted him on the shoulder. “You know, man, your biggest problem with Rachel is that you can’t see who she really is. You keep thinking of her as this honest, forthright person, but she’s not. Until you get that through your head, she’s never going to live up to your expectations.”

Finn glared at him. “You’re pushing it, man.”

“I know,” Puck said cheerfully. “You can take it out on me when I get back tonight. See ya.”

* * *

After apologizing to Emma and returning the yellow Corvette to the dealer, Will still had one last task to complete. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to manage it, but he figured if nothing else, Toby deserved the truth from him.

He drove his old station wagon with the dragging muffler back to his apartment and went inside. Then he called Toby’s cell phone.

“I’m sorry to bother you at practice,” he said. “I know Thursday night is your late one.”

_“That’s all right, darlin’. I have a few minutes to spare while the kids finish their warmup with Dustin. He’s a hell of a taskmaster. We still on for you to come out tomorrow after work?”_

Will let out a shaky laugh. “I think you might want to wait and ask that after you hear what I’m going to tell you.”

 _“Oh, Will.”_ The background noise began to subside as Toby moved into a quieter hallway. _“What’d you get yourself into now?”_

“Well, Rachel sang this song for Glee today. We had a big debacle yesterday at the pep assembly; I’ll tell you about it another time. But she sang a song for Finn, one that apologized for trying to control him. She said that she was trying to hold on to how he made her feel so much, she was strangling him. And that what she needed to do was to let him go, to let him be free to be himself.” He sighed, settling on the couch. “I wish I’d always let you do that, Toby.”

 _“I think you ain’t never gonna stop apologizing for B-W senior year.”_ Toby sounded amused. _“You know I forgave you a long time ago.”_

“I don’t think I’ve earned it yet,” said Will. “I’ll keep trying, though, if you’ll let me.”

_“You scored some big points in that department with Darius this summer, darlin’. Letting him in that way.”_

There were no pictures of Darius in his apartment, but it hadn’t been so long that Will couldn’t hear his voice in his head, or feel the texture of his braids under his fingers. He closed his eyes. “I wish I had the chance to thank him for that, too.”

“ _Nothin’ says you can’t call him and tell him over the phone.”_

“Maybe I will. Toby…” He gathered his courage. “Emma’s struggling. You remember back last winter when she was my beard? Well, she needs help now. Her boyfriend Carl, he’s helping a lot, but I think she might still need me.”

Toby was quiet for a moment. Will bit his lip.

“Toby?”

 _“Need you how?”_ Toby asked slowly.

“Well, you might remember she hasn’t been able to… to have sex with him. With anybody. When we tried it, it was a big failure. I don’t know if that she can’t or she won’t, but either way, it’s going to be hard for her to get what she wants if she doesn’t have sex with him. She wants a baby, Toby. Carl thinks I’m the only person she’ll tolerate doing that with. I’m not even sure if she can, or will, but… I want to help her.”

 _“Will.”_ Toby’s voice was heavy. _“You don’t want to have a baby with her because you want to help her. You want to have a baby with her because you’re in love with her.”_

“No,” he protested.

_“Yeah, Will. You are. I know you, and I know how you are about that woman. I like Emma. I ain’t gonna tell you no. But I am gonna say I can’t be around while you’re doin’ it.”_

Will caught his breath. “Toby. Are you — you’re breaking up with me?”

_“I’m setting my boundaries, Will. You finish up what you need to do with her. When it’s all done, you give me a call. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. All our rules still apply. Make sure she’s been tested first, all right?”_

Even sitting on the couch, he felt dizzy. “She’s a virgin, Toby. I can’t believe you’re —“

“ _What? Sayin’ no to you? I ain’t doing that. I’m keeping myself safe. First it was the way you treated Shannon, and now this with Emma. I can’t deal with that kind of drama, not if I’m gonna teach these kids and stay sane. You let me know when you’re done, Will.”_ He sounded so sad. _“I’ll be loving you.”_

“Toby,” Will whispered, but he’d already hung up.

* * *

There was this one thing that the men in Puck’s dad’s group did every time that made him feel kind of strange. It was the way they prayed for forgiveness for all the bad things they’d ever done. It was a foreign concept to Puck.

“I know I’ve done bad things,” Puck told the group. “I just never expected God would forgive me for them. I figured I had to live with the consequences. That’s what Ma always said.”

“Your Ma never forgave me for my sins,” his dad said sadly. “I don’t blame her for that. It’s not her place to forgive; it’s God’s.”

Puck thought about the relief he’d felt, the first time Finn took on his guilt and disciplined him for it, and every time thereafter. “You don’t think people can forgive?”

His dad shook his head. “I think they can, but it doesn’t matter much. God’s forgiveness is the only forgiveness I need.”

“Do you want to confess your sins, Noah?” Ethan asked.

He’d never said them out loud before, when the other men of the group had prayed for forgiveness. Puck had just kind of sat with them in his head, wishing for Kurt’s hand on his behind, or the paddle, or something more intense than that. He chewed on his lip. “I guess? There’s kind of a lot of them.”

“You don’t have to be specific, if you’re uncomfortable. We won’t judge you. It’s not men’s place to judge one another.”

Ethan looked so friendly and open that Puck found himself saying, “Yeah, okay.”

They sat together in a circle with their elbows on their knees and their hands clasped in front of them, their heads bowed so that their faces turned toward the floor. Puck studied the cracks in the linoleum.

“Merciful father,” said Ethan, “we come before you as men who have broken Your laws. Our sins have separated us from you. This servant of yours, Noah Puckerman, is truly sorry and he wants to turn away from his past sinful life toward you. Please listen to him and forgive him, and help him avoid sinning again.”

Ethan nodded at Puck. He swallowed.

“Uh… I’ve done a lot of things? Things I wasn’t proud of. I was mean to my mom a lot before she died. I don’t talk to my brother much. I’ve stolen things, and drank and did drugs. I’ve been in a bunch of fights. I… my best friend, I had, uh, intercourse with his girlfriend, and she got pregnant.” He paused. “But then she had the baby, and Beth is the best thing ever, so I’m not sure I can regret that.”

“You don’t have to sort through that all now, Noah,” said Ethan. He put a hand on his shoulder. It felt a little like Finn’s, heavy and comforting. “You just have to let God take your sins away.”

Puck wasn’t sure how he was supposed to submit without somebody helping him get there, but he steeled himself and tried again. “I… I’ve had a lot of sex? With a lot of people, guys and girls, and… I guess that would be lust. Wanted a lot of people. I wanted…” He swallowed again, remembering all the dreams about Blaine, all the times he’d woken up never knowing if he’d see him again, talk to him, kiss him. “I wanted this one boy. We both did, for months. And now we found each other, and it’s — it’s so good.” He looked at Ethan anxiously. “How can it be a sin if it’s like that? If it’s so good?”

“You know the kind of man you need to be,” Ethan said. “You know in your heart it’s the right thing. Let God guide you on the path to be right with Him. What do you regret?”

“I regret…” He took a shaky breath. “I regret all the mistakes I ever made with other people. All the times I never told them what I really thought, because I was scared and I thought they would laugh, or kick me out, or tell me to f- to go away. I wish I could find all of them and get down on my knees and beg for them to tell me they’re okay, even though I did all this bad stuff.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I regret not taking my mom to the doctor before she died. She needed it and I think I knew and I never did anything. I regret… pretending to be something I wasn’t to get what I wanted.”

“What did you want?” his dad asked soberly.

“To fit in. To be a badass. For everybody to be afraid of me.” He wiped his nose again. “I regret trying to handle everything on my own without asking for help.”

“You’re asking now, Noah. It’s not too late.”

 _No,_ he wanted to say. _No, I asked for help a year ago, and Finn and Kurt gave it to me. They saved me._ But these men would never understand that, he was sure of it.

“All right, Noah. That’s enough.” Ethan put his hand back on Puck’s shoulder. “Now, pray with me: _I believe that your son, Jesus Christ, died for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive and hears my prayers. I invite Jesus to become the Lord of my life, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward. Please send your Holy Spirit to help me obey You, and to do Your will for the rest of my life. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.”_

Puck had heard it enough times in that basement room now to know what to say. He tripped a little over the words, but he got most of them out. He wasn’t sure if he believed all of them, but he said them, just as he had said the Kaddish at the synagogue in Santa Fe with Adam. This time, though, he had no one to take him home and tie him up and spank his bottom and tell him he was a good boy. He guessed he’d have to tell himself.

But what if he didn’t believe it? What if he couldn’t convince himself?

Maybe… maybe that meant he wasn’t a good boy after all.

 _Is this what it feels like to be an adult?_ he wondered, and shivered there, alone in the basement.


	11. Two Years Old: 1995

_“Why do I have to put away all the toys?” grumbled Timmy. He lifted another handful of LEGO into the cardboard box. “Why can’t Noah do it too?”_

_“Noah’s two,” said Ruth. But she sat down on the floor beside them and showed Noah how she was picking up the dirty socks from under the bed and putting them in the laundromat bag. Noah promptly took the socks back out of the bag and returned them to the floor, grinning like it was the best game ever. She sighed. “He wouldn’t know what a clean house looked like if I showed it to him, anyway. Nobody cleans up around here.”_

_“I take baths,” said Timmy. “And brush my teeth. Well, sometimes.”_

_Ruth saved the pair of socks from going into the LEGO box and returned them to the bag. “We just want it to look nice for your Uncle Samuel.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because that’s what people do when they have family come over. They clean up.”_

_“Why?” Timmy asked again._

_“Because,” she said, a little louder. “Just put this box in the closet, okay?”_

_They managed to get most of the worst of the toys and clothes off the floor in time for Ruth to run the vacuum. Timmy sat in a corner and put both hands over his ears while Noah ran in circles, shouting._

_“Monster!” he told Ruth hopefully. She smiled and pushed the vacuum toward him, following him as he screeched in joy and ran for the safety of the kitchen._

_Uncle Samuel arrived when he said he would. He didn’t look much different from the last time she’d seen him: slim and somewhat pallid, with a mop of curly hair. Samuel smiled when he saw Timothy’s matching curls._

_“Looks just like me when I was that age.”_

_“I don’t like that,” said Timothy irritably, pulling away from Samuel’s affectionate hand on his head._

_“He’s not a cuddler,” Ruth said._

_Samuel shrugged. He peered down at Noah, who was yelling at the quiescent vacuum cleaner and stabbing it with a paper-towel-roll sword. “That one looks like a handful.”_

_“You don’t know the half of it,” Ruth agreed. When Samuel pulled a wrapped package from behind his back, Noah paused, looking curious._

_“It’s your birthday,” said Samuel. “You want to open your present?”_

_When Timmy showed him how he could tear the paper, Noah gleefully shredded it and held up the white book inside._

_“Pac-Man!” he shouted._

_“Something like that,” said Samuel. “Your mom loved this book growing up. You don’t already have a copy?”_

_Timothy snatched it out of Noah’s hands and took it to the couch. Noah didn’t seem to mind, happily trotting beside him and climbing up into their familiar book-sharing position. Timmy opened to the first page._

_“It was missing a piece," he read. "And it was not happy. So it set off in search of its missing piece.”_

_He went through the entire book, reading aloud in his grave five-year-old voice, while Samuel watched in amazement. Ruth brought him a beer._

_“Isn’t he a little young to be reading?” he murmured._

_“I guess? Timmy’s been doing that since he was three.”_

_Noah listened, as he always did when his brother read to him, and when the book was done, he said, “Again, Meemee, again!”_

_Timmy flipped back to the first page and began again. They read it three more times before Ruth suggested, “How about some cake?”_

_The frosting was chocolate. They managed to navigate the paper plates without spilling the thick slices onto the shag carpet, which already needed a good shampooing._

_“So, Aaron,” said Samuel, and hesitated._

_“He knows you’re coming,” Ruth assured him. “He wants to see you. He’ll be here eventually.”_

_But even after she’d served dinner and the boys were in the bathtub and they were on their third beer, there was still no sign of Aaron. Samuel stood up from the couch with an apologetic sigh._

_“I’ve got to get going. We can try again soon?”_

_“Yeah, of course.” Ruth hugged him. “I’ll tell him you came by. Thanks for the book.”_

_The house was quiet and the boys were long asleep by the time Aaron came straggling in, smelling strongly of weed and pointedly ignoring Ruth’s glare. He tossed a box on the table._

_“What’s that?” she said._

_“It’s a birthday cake. Can’t I get my kid a birthday cake?”_

_“Uh, no. I made Noah a cake already, just like I’ve always made one for Timmy.” She opened the box and made a face at the over-frosted surface. “We ate it with dinner. You missed my brother.”_

_Aaron grunted. “Why would I want to see that faggot?”_

_“Because he’s my brother and you promised to be nice.”_

_“I told you, I had a gig.”_

**_On your own son’s birthday?_ ** _she wanted to say. But the mood he was in, that would probably end badly for her. So she just put the cake box on top of the fridge and went to bed. A week later, long after Aaron had forgotten about the cake, she threw the box away._


	12. Finn & Blaine's Date Night, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Finn and Blaine’s date night. Knittycat99 and I wrote most of this scene back in 2012, when we were just starting to envision the Finn/Blaine relationship in the Donutverse. It’s both painful and pleasing to see it finally come into play. Warning for m/m sex and major angst. -amy

“You sure we have the house to ourselves?”  Finn frowned as he followed Blaine up the familiar curve of the stairs and down the hall into Blaine’s room.

“Yeah,” Blaine said, nodding for Finn to drop his duffle just inside the door.  “My dad and Thomas went away for the weekend.  I think it’s some last chance to try and fix the mess my dad made of things.”

“Okay.”  Finn closed the door behind him, then reached out to grab Blaine’s wrist. They both sucked in a breath, turning to face one another.  Every time they touched was electric. Even after a month together like this, Finn still wasn’t used to it.  

Blaine let his eyes fall so that they were slightly downcast.  “He won’t be back until Sunday,” he said.

Finn tilted Blaine’s chin back up. He smiled, watching Blaine’s cheeks flush.

“Good,” Finn murmured.  “That’s good, because I have plans for us.”

Blaine peeked around him at the bag on the floor, and his eyes lit up.  “What did you bring?”

Finn chuckled lightly, ran a hand down Blaine’s jaw.  “My boy’s getting greedy, huh?”

“N-no, sir,” Blaine whispered.  “Not greedy.  Just.  Um.  Excited?   _Happy_?”

“Happy is good,” Finn said.  “We’ll play in a little while.  First I want to do this.”  He settled a hand on each side of Blaine’s head and brought their lips together.  

Kissing Blaine was still new, and Finn felt like he was still learning what got Blaine to respond.  So far, Finn knew that nipping at his bottom lip would make Blaine arch his body closer into Finn, and that a firm tongue was a good thing.  He knew he’d learn the rest, over time, but summer was already over. It felt some days like their time was running out. 

 _If only we hadn’t wasted so much time being scared of this,_ he thought.

“Stop thinking,” Blaine said with a light laugh, pressing his forehead into Finn’s chest.

“How did you know I was thinking?”  

“You stopped kissing me.  Please, don’t stop kissing me.”  Blaine moved closer, stood on his tiptoes. He tried to reach up high enough to kiss Finn, but Finn grabbed Blaine’s wrists and held them tight.

“I got what I wanted.  Are you ready to take what I give you?” He kept his voice steady, even as he felt his desire spike.

“Yes, sir.”  Blaine shifted as best he could into the rest position Finn had taught him that day in Carl’s office, and Finn smiled in approval.

“Good boy.  Would you like to see what I brought with me?”

“Yes, please, sir.”  

Finn opened his duffel and pulled out the handcuffs first.  Blaine’s eyes were round and sparkling, watching him put the cuffs aside.  Finn knew there was very little about the things they did together that scared Blaine anymore.  Blaine went down easy, now that he knew how Finn wanted him to do it. He knew Finn would take care of him, keep him safe while he was down.  The scary things were the feelings that sometimes overwhelmed him in the aftermath, but Finn liked to think that he was getting better at taking care of Blaine then, too, when he was still fuzzy from the submission and the sex, when the rest of the world was just too much.

“We haven’t used this yet,” Finn said, running the tails of the suede flogger over his hands. “You know this one is Kurt’s favorite.  He told me he thought you’d like it.  He _told_ me to use it on you tonight.”

Blaine moaned deep in his chest. He could feel his own response, powerful and immediate, but he could also hear Kurt’s voice in his head.   _Don’t rush.  Let him anticipate it.  Enjoy it, both of you._

He took a deep breath, set the flogger on Blaine’s desk, and picked up the cuffs again.  “These, first.” Finn buckled one around each wrist, giving each one a sharp tug to make them tight, and Blaine gasped each time, smiling up at Finn with such trust and love.

Blaine began to move into position, with his hands behind his back, but Finn stopped him, pressing him down onto the bed on his back.  “I want you like this,” he said.  “Just like this.  I want to look into your eyes when I fuck you.”

“Oh, _god_ ,” Blaine half-sighed, half-moaned.  Finn thought that maybe, if he hadn’t already been on the bed, that Blaine’s knees would have buckled.  He could feel Blaine’s wanting, could feel the energy from Blaine’s body mirrored in his own.

Finn stretched Blaine’s wrists to the corners of the bed before looping a length of chain around each bedpost, attaching the hooks on Blaine’s cuffs to the chain.  There was very little room to move, and Blaine lay flat, stretched out before him, so perfectly open.  

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Finn said tenderly, touching his shoulders, his arms, the smooth stretch of skin under his arm down to his hip, then along the ridge of his cock.  Blaine knew well enough to hold still and as calm as possible under Finn’s hand, but he couldn’t resist one thrust into Finn’s touch at the end.  Finn smiled again, shaking his head.  “Not yet.  I have plans for you.”

Blaine shook his head, curls flying around around him.  “Need you, Finn.   _Please_.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby.  You’ll get me.  I’m gonna make you feel so good.”  Finn kissed the tip of Blaine’s nose, which made them both smile, and then Finn began moving down Blaine’s body, kissing and licking and dragging his teeth over what felt like miles and miles of bare skin.  Just like kissing, he was still learning the best places to touch to make Blaine shift and press underneath him, but he was already very very fond of the flat little area above Blaine’s right hip, where the bone jutted out a little bit.  Apparently a nicely timed application of tongue and teeth right there was enough to send Blaine writhing, and Finn sometimes got a little obsessed with things like that.  It was fun, making Blaine respond that way.  

“Finn,” he gasped, his hands clenching, trapped in their cuffs, as Finn licked a long, wet swath from his navel to the base of his cock.  “You... please, I _want...”_

“What you want doesn’t matter right now,” Finn said, gripping his hips.  “I’m going to take what’s mine.”

“Yours,” Blaine sighed, almost defeated.  “I’m yours.”

“Yes,” Finn growled in the moment before he took Blaine in his mouth.  “ _Mine_.”

Blaine tried to push into Finn’s mouth, but Finn pressed his hands hard against Blaine’s hips and worked his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking hard the way he knew Blaine liked until Blaine was trembling and incoherent.  He tasted hints of salt, knew that Blaine was so close to coming, but he couldn’t let that happen.  He pulled off, and settled between Blaine’s thighs, pushing his legs open.

“ _Finn_ ,” Blaine whined.  ‘Don’t stop.  So close.”

“ _I’m_ in charge here, _boy_.   _I’ll_ tell you when to come, understand?”  

Blaine nodded, and Finn fumbled for the lube he’d tossed onto the bed.  When he was slick and ready, he pressed the tip of his cock against Blaine, and got ready.  

“I’m going to fuck you now, baby, and you’re going to come when I tell you.”

“Yes.”  Blaine opened his eyes and stared up at Finn.  Finn held his gaze as he pushed inside.

“Now, Blaine.  Come now.  Come for me, baby, you know you want to.   _I_ want you to.”  He kept talking as he slid all the way inside of Blaine, and when he had bottomed out he felt Blaine clenching around him.  He didn’t move, just stayed where he was and let Blaine come all over his stomach.  

“God, Finn.”  Blaine’s body relaxed.  “That was . . . wow.”

Finn chuckled.  “That was just the beginning, baby.  I’m going to fuck you until you’re hard again, and then we’re going to come together.”

“Oh.”  Finn moved his hips, sliding almost all the way out and then back into Blaine again, slow and hard and just the way Blaine liked it.

“Yes,” he said, holding Blaine’s gaze.  “And then, I’m going to turn you over and use that flogger on you until you come _again_ , just from the sensation of it.”

Blaine shook his head.  “I don’t think I can do that.  I think you might kill me with orgasms.”

Finn stopped moving, suddenly serious.  “Do you trust me, baby?”

“Of course.”

“Then just . . . trust me.  I won’t hurt you.  And I don’t care if you don’t get there.  We’ll just, I dunno.  Have fun trying, I guess.”

Blaine smiled, and it lit up his whole face.  “I like trying.”

“That’s my good boy.”  Finn kissed Blaine then, and slammed into him again.  And again and again until they were both writhing and mumbly and Finn could barely order Blaine to come a second time.

But he did, and _they_ did, together, laughing and happy.

“Messy,” Blaine said, a little hazy-eyed before Finn could collapse on top of him.

“I’ll get a washcloth.”  Finn gazed down at Blaine, and ran a hand up one of his arms to the leather of the cuff.  “You okay, baby?”

“Mmmm.  Yes.”

“Do you want me to uncuff you?”  Finn would, if Blaine wanted, but he kind of liked seeing his boy all stretched out and languid that way.

“No,” Blaine sighed as his eyes fluttered closed.  “Thirsty.”

“Here,” Finn pulled the comforter up around Blaine.  “Let me go get us some juice and a snack.”

Finn slipped into his shorts and padded down to the kitchen.  He knew there was always juice in the fridge, which was great because Blaine usually got really jittery after both discipline and sex, and the juice helped bring his blood sugar back up.  He poured two glasses, and tucked a bag of ginger snaps under his arm.  He would have preferred something chocolate, but whatever.  The cookies would have to do.

Back in Blaine’s room, he tucked pillows under Blaine’s head and held his glass so that he could sip at his juice.  “Cookie?” he asked, holding one out for Blaine and popping one into his own mouth.

“No,” Blaine said, letting his head slide back onto the mountain of pillows.  “Just you.”

“Okay,” Finn mumbled through a mouthful of cookie crumbs.  

He set the bag on the floor and Blaine’s glass on the nightstand before climbing over Blaine so that he could wrap around his boy’s body. He held Blaine tightly, stroked his hair and pressed gentle kisses along his jaw.  

“Do you know how beautiful you are, like this?  God, baby.  You just give and give to me, all the time.”

“You _take_ ,” Blaine whispered.  “I had no idea I needed that.  Puck... he taught me that, about myself.”

“Yeah,” Finn said, emotion sudden and thick in his throat.  “Neither did I, that I needed to take it.” He shook his head, amused.  “He taught me that about myself, too.  It’s good, right?”

“Oh, god, Finn.  It’s _everything_.  It’s exactly right.”  Blaine burrowed his head into Finn’s chest and sighed happily.  “We didn’t get to the flogger, though,” he said with a little laugh.

“We have plenty of time, baby.  Rest, now.”  Finn unclipped the chain from Blaine’s cuffs, releasing him from the hard restraint but leaving the cuffs around Blaine’s wrists.  He rested a hand over Blaine’s chest, felt his heart beating there, steady and strong, and his breaths slowing and evening out.

“That’s right,” he said.  “Sleep now, my baby.”

* * *

Finn didn’t sleep so much as he moved in and out of dreams, checking on Blaine every time he woke to be sure he was okay.  Blaine, however, slept hard, and Finn hated to wake him but it was getting toward dinner time and he knew that Blaine would be ravenous before too long.

He tried gentle whispers and nudges with his knee, then a shoulder, then his hand firm on Blaine’s chest.  “Blaine, baby.  C’mon.  Time to wake up.”

“Mphf.  Hungry.”  Blaine opened one eye and peered at Finn.  “Hi.”

 _God._ Finn couldn’t suppress his grin. Blaine was entirely too adorable when he was waking up.  “Hi.  You’re hungry, huh?”

Blaine smiled and arched his hips a little, poking his half-hard cock into Finn’s thigh.  “Yeah.  And not just for dinner.”

“Really.”  Finn rolled his eyes.  “Food first.  Then more sex.”

Blaine’s eyes drifted over to his desk, where the flogger was still draped over his stack of summer reading books.  “Food first.  Then _that_.”

“As you wish, baby.”  Finn leaned down anyway, and kissed Blaine full and hard.  Blaine kissed back, and even though Finn knew that it was a bad idea, he climbed over Blaine’s body and just rutted against him.  Blaine met him thrust for thrust, a little sloppy and both of them still hazy, and Finn was this close to coming when —

There was suddenly someone else in the room with them.

“Blaine Darren Anderson.  What the _hell_ is this?”

Blaine went completely limp under Finn. The whimpering noise that came from his mouth was nothing short of terrified.

Finn closed his eyes and rolled off of Blaine. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled under his breath. When he felt Blaine jerk away, he added quickly, “No, no, baby, I’m not mad at you.”

He pulled the blanket up and regretfully turned his gaze to the man who had to be Blaine’s father, taking a deep breath.

“Mr. Anderson,” Finn said. He could feel dread settling into the pit of his stomach. Superficially, the man did look like Blaine, but the outraged expression on his face, the contemptuous look in his eyes — he’d never seen anything like that from his boy.

“Who the hell are you?” Mr. Anderson demanded. “Because I’ve met _Puck_ , and you’re not him.”

“No,” Finn shook his head.  “I’m Finn Hudson.  I think this is a conversation we need to have on equal footing.  Can you give us a minute to get dressed?”  He was shaking, but he knew he needed to stay calm for Blaine.

Mr. Anderson rubbed a hand over his face and looked all over the room _but_ at the two of them. When his gaze landed on the flogger, still on Blaine’s desk, his face went white.  “What- this- _no_ , Blaine.   _This_ is unacceptable.”

“Mr. Anderson.”  Finn pulled out his Voice.  “Please.  Blaine needs a minute to get dressed.  We’ll meet you downstairs.”

Blaine’s father blinked at him, and took a step back towards the door.  “Yes. Downstairs.”

“Thank you,” Finn said, and he waited until Mr. Anderson was out into the hall and the door was closed again before he gathered Blaine into his arms.

“It’s okay, baby,” Finn said.  “It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” Blaine mumbled over and over.  “It’s _not_ going to be okay.  This is going to be so, so bad.”

* * *

Finn wanted to hold Blaine’s hand.  He wanted to do more than that; he wanted to hug Blaine close, to keep him calm and safe. But Blaine was perched, awkward and tense, on the edge of one of the overstuffed, too-elegant armchairs in the living room.  Finn sat just as awkwardly on the sofa, doing what Kurt always called _practicing calm_.  

Mr. Anderson paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, shifting a glass of scotch from hand to hand and taking an occasional sip.  He looked like he barely had a handle on his temper.

“I don’t know if you understand what you’re playing at, Blaine.”  Mr. Anderson set his glass on the mantle and swung his eyes from Blaine to Finn.  “If _either_ of you understand what you’re playing at.”

Finn watched Blaine startle, and he couldn’t stand it any longer.  He motioned for Blaine to join him, and they both sighed with relief when Blaine moved from the chair into the space next to Finn on the couch.  Blaine started to speak, but Finn squeezed his hand.   _I’ve got this, baby_ , he tried to say without words.

“We’re not playing at anything,” Finn said.

Mr. Anderson laughed without humor. “Like hell you’re not.  You’re _sixteen year old boys_ , for Christ’s sake.  Your whole _lives_ are playing.”  

“It’s not-” he started, and then took a breath.  He felt like shouting, but he was not going to do that.  “We’re not, Mr. Anderson.   _I’m_ not.  There’s nothing to play _at_.  This is what Blaine needs.”

Blaine’s father stared at them both. “He doesn’t _need_ to cheat on his boyfriend, or be with someone who . . . who _hurts_ him.”  

“Finn isn’t hurting me,” Blaine spoke for the first time. “And I’m not cheating on Puck.”  Even those words cost him something to say. Finn could feel him shaking. He tucked his arm around Blaine, holding him closer.  It didn’t help calm the shaking, but Finn felt better, being close to him.

“Puck and me,” Finn began.  “We’re together.  And Blaine is a part of things, too.”  He didn’t want to drag Kurt into the middle of things.

“The- um.  The . . . _implement_?  On the desk?  Blaine, please.  Tell me you didn’t let anyone _do anything_ to you with it.”  Mr. Anderson sounded desperate; he was almost begging, and Finn had to bite his tongue to keep from telling him to _stop that, right now_.

Blaine blushed red to the tips of his ears, but still he didn’t back down.  “Not that one, no.  But one like it.”

Finn leaned over to whisper into Blaine’s ear.  “Filter, baby.  I can’t help you if you dig yourself into a hole here.”

Blaine just shook his head regretfully. “I know,” he whispered back, “but when he asks, I — I have to tell him the truth.”  He looked up at his father. “I’m sorry, Dad.  I know you don’t understand.  But Puck and Finn, we- I-”

Finn heard the tears in Blaine’s voice before they started falling from his eyes.  He turned a little so that he could wrap both his arms around Blaine and tuck him into the curve of his body. Finn rested his chin on top of Blaine’s head and tried not to glare at Mr. Anderson.

“Blaine’s given this a lot of thought,” he said.  “He’s not being talked into anything he doesn’t want to do.  School’s tough for him.  He works hard, but it’s hard to stay focused, and --”

“Blaine does perfectly well at school,” Mr. Anderson said stiffly, not looking directly at Finn, “when he’s not being distracted from his studies.  Blaine, you told us Dalton was going to help  you.  I didn’t expect you to meet boys like _this,_ there.”

“I’m not from Dalton,” Finn assured him, then paused.  Maybe it would be better if he didn’t know _where_ he was from, exactly.  And Mr. Anderson didn’t need to know about Jeff, at all. “He needs someone to give him some direction.  Something to focus on.”

“And that’s _you,_ eh?”  His distaste was evident as he looked Finn up and down. Finn could guess what he saw, from his cheap sneakers to his off-brand polo shirt.  It was a little uncomfortable being sized up like that, but considering Blaine’s father had just seen him naked on top of his son, he wasn’t going to begrudge his own choice of clothing.  “ _You’re_ going to tell Blaine what he needs to focus on?”

Blaine’s brow wrinkled in consternation.  “It’s not like that, Dad...”

“Blaine’s right,” Finn said, rubbing a slow circle on Blaine’s back.  “He doesn’t need me to tell him what to do, because he already wants to do the right things.  I just… kind of _remind_ him, of what the best choices are.”

“By hurting him?”  Mr. Anderson’s face was disbelieving.

“Finn doesn’t _hurt_ me.  I mean, yeah, okay.  It hurts.  But afterwards?” He looked hard at his father, trying to find the words. “God.  Afterwards, it’s like my head is clear and I can think again.”

“Clear?  I don’t understand.  Clear from what?”

Blaine threw his hands in the air.  “Clear from all the utter _shit_ that makes me want to crawl into a hole and hide, okay?  All the crap that I carry around, every day.”

His father looked completely baffled.  “What are you talking about? I know you. You’re a happy, well-adjusted boy, Blaine.  You’re safe at Dalton. You’re getting the best education. Do you know the strings I had to pull just to get you in there last year? For crying out loud, you’re only _sixteen._ What could you possibly have to be worried about?”

Blaine looked up at his father desperately, close to the edge of panic, and bit his tongue. He could have said, _oh, I don’t know, maybe I’m worried about what happened when I was fourteen and I had the living shit beat out of me? Or about you and Thomas, how you seem to be close to breaking up? Or the fact that you’ve been secretly gay all my life and you didn’t tell me this when I needed someone to help me understand myself? Or how about the way I’ve never been good enough for you, no matter how hard I try or how well I do in school?_ But he didn’t say anything.

If Finn had wanted to wrap him up and protect Blaine before, the urge was doubly hard now. He let Blaine keep holding tight to his hand, like it was his only tether to the moment.

Mr. Anderson looked back and forth between the two of them, and his face hardened.  He shook his head.  “I’m sorry, boys,” he said, and he actually did sound sorry.  “But I know what’s best for Blaine, and this _definitely_ isn’t it.  You’re going to need to leave, Finn.”

He rounded on Blaine, pointing one finger.  “And _you_ , young man... this is going to end _now._ School is about your studies, not about irresponsible extracurricular activities.  You’re going to represent our family appropriately. So -- no more boys.  No more... _anything._  I don’t care what you think this does for you, or what kind of _focus_ you get out of it. If you need that kind of focus, you can talk to my psychiatrist.”

“No!” Finn shouted, putting one hand on Blaine’s chest.  “He doesn’t need drugs!”   _He needs me,_ he thought miserably, but he knew there was no way Mr. Anderson was going to hear him.  

“Blaine is done with you,” Mr. Anderson said, his mouth one thin, firm line.  “You will leave. _Now.”_

Blaine stared at Finn in horror, but when his father reached out to take his arm, he just let him lead him away, without one word of complaint.  Finn grappled with his twin instincts to take care of Blaine and listen to the voice of authority, but in the end, he just sat there, watching Mr. Anderson take him up the stairs.  He heard a door slam, and the enormous, sterile house was silent.

“Blaine,” Finn said, but nobody was listening.  

He stood.  His hands were shaking, and he didn’t know what to do with them, so he settled on shoving them into his pockets and came up with his car keys.  He stared at them.

Mr. Anderson’s footsteps were almost silent when he came back into the room, Finn’s duffel bag hanging loosely in one hand.  “Here are your things.  You can be sure I’ll be talking to the school tomorrow; Blaine will be monitored to ensure no further contact with you, or that boy, Puck. If you try to talk with him or see him, I _will_ find out, and you can be sure I’ll be calling your parents.”

“There’s just my mother,” he said, his lips feeling numb and clumsy, “and she knows everything. You really don’t understand him, or _this_ , at all.” Finn shook the confusion away, facing Mr. Anderson again.  “I don’t care about what you could do to me.  All I care about is what you’re doing to Blaine. And you’re _killing_ him, by taking away everything that makes him real.”

Mr. Anderson shook his head.  “Blaine will return to school and focus on his studies, as befits an Anderson.  I’m not going to let some stupid notions about sexual exploration ruin his reputation. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.  You kids have _no_ idea what you’re doing here, how one mistake can ruin _everything._ ”  He glared at Finn.  “Someday he’ll thank me.”

“No, he won’t.” Finn wasn’t sure if he should be saying all this to Mr. Anderson, but he wasn’t sure he could stop, either. “If he manages to stay sane through whatever punishments you think are going to help, he’s _not_ going to thank you.  He’s just going to be more broken than he was when I met him. It’s going to take me, or someone like me, a lot longer than a few months to put him back together.”

“Cut the melodrama, kid,” Mr. Anderson snapped.  “Blaine doesn’t need _you_ or anybody else to tell him who he is.  He’s got five generations of strong, powerful men to back him up.  He’s --”

“Blaine _is_ strong,” Finn insisted, interrupting.  “If you saw him the way I do, or- _god_ , if you saw him _at all_ , you’d know that. He just- _he_ doesn’t see it, about himself, yet.  But he will.  Someday, someone will love him enough and he’ll start to know that.”   _I already love him enough.  We all do._ ** _We_** _could show Blaine the best parts of himself, if only you would let us._

Mr. Anderson’s face was scornful. “Love has nothing to do with it.  I love my son, and you have no right to come into   _my_ home and try to tell me that I’m hurting him by being his _father!”_

Mr. Anderson tried to throw his weight forward, but Finn, who was a good two inches taller, stood his ground.  “Somebody has to.  I can’t see him treated like this.”

“You won’t have to,” said Mr. Anderson with a triumphant smile.  “You’re forbidden from ever seeing him again.”

Finn felt like a part of him was breaking off and sliding away.  “If you cared about him at all, you wouldn’t do this.   _You’re_ the one who’s _hurting him_.”

Mr. Anderson’s hand was on his arm, and he was trying to steer Finn toward the door.  Finn shook his hand off.  

“Don’t touch me.  I’m going, okay?  I’m… I’m going.”  

He picked up his bag and made his way to the door on shaky legs.  When he stepped onto the front step, he had to grip the railing to hold himself up while his knees threatened to buckle. Mr. Anderson didn’t say anything, just shut the door behind him.

It took Finn a few moments to manage the stone steps down to his car, waiting in the driveway. He slid the key into the ignition. Then he leaned his head back against the headrest, trying to get his breathing under control. None of Carl’s tricks seemed to be working. He suspected he might be going into shock, but he didn’t know what he could he do other than wait.

Finally he fished his phone out of his bag and scrolled through his contacts, observing the shaking of his own hands with a sense of disconnection. He pressed dial, and hoped that on this particular Friday night, Jeff didn’t have a date.

 _“Finn?”_ he heard on the other end. _“Haven’t heard from you in a few weeks.  How’s your fall going?  Everything okay, man?”_

“Shit, Jeff.  No.   _Nothing_ is okay.  We have . . . _fuck.”_ Finn pounded his fist on the steering wheel. “Blaine’s dad found out.  About _everything._ He’s not gonna let Blaine see us anymore.  It’s _bad._  I mean, it’s bad for me, but you know how it’s going to be for Blaine.”

 _“Oh, man. Hang on, Finn.”_  He listened while Jeff whispered to someone, and then there were footsteps and a door creaking closed.  “ _Okay, I’m good to talk now.  Where are you?”_

“Sitting in my car in front of Blaine’s house.  Can’t drive, dude.”  Finn let out a harsh laugh.

 _“Need me to come get you?  I’m about 20 minutes away.  We can go down to Java the Hut for coffee, until you’re ready to go home.”_   Jeff’s voice was full of concern, and his kindness made Finn want to say _yes, please, take me someplace where people understand us_.  But he _had_ someone who understood, he just needed to be capable enough to _get_ there.

“No, I just.  Shit.  I need you to- to-”

_“You need me to take care of him until you can figure things out, yeah?”_

“Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing his head where the headache was just beginning.  “I know it’s asking a lot.”

_“No, Finn.  I care about Blaine.  He’s a good friend, and he needs what you give him.  Of course I’ll help.  Are you sure you’re okay?”_

“No.”  Finn shook his head, even though Jeff couldn’t see him.  “I’m not okay.  But I have to _get_ okay.  I have to- I have to go home.  I have to see C- um.  My, uh.”

 _“Your Dom?”_  

Finn had never told Jeff about Carl, but Jeff was a pretty knowledgeable guy.  He understood the dynamics that could exist in the scene, and nothing much seemed to bother him.

“Yeah,” Finn sighed. “Even if he doesn’t have any ideas, he needs to know.  He’ll, um.  He’ll help me deal.”

_“That’s good.  Good that you have someone.  You need to take care of yourself too, Finn, so that once we fix this mess you’ll be able to take care of Blaine.”_

“Yeah.  I know.  It was just . . . it was so bad, Jeff.  Blaine completely lost it.  Started yelling at his dad.  We tried to explain, we both did.  It was like his dad didn’t even hear us.”  Finn felt his eyes fill with tears, but he sniffed them back and swallowed hard.  He couldn’t lose it yet.

_“You did just fine, Finn.  Mr. Anderson is a particular kind of hard-ass.  I don’t know that you could have said anything to make him change his mind.”_

He wiped his eyes on the corner of his shirt.  “I guess... my mom, she’s so awesome -- I mean, really, man, she’s got her own history and everything -- and Kurt’s dad, he’s practically got the award for Best Dad of the year wrapped up. I just forgot, somehow, that other people’s parents could be...” He swallowed.  “Like that.”

_“I’m pretty lucky, too.  I mean, my dad’s pretty conservative, but he’s been dealing with my sister and her life for years.  His mind is a lot more open than it used to be.  I don’t honestly think he’d care, now, if I came out to him about anything.  But Blaine?  He’s already had such a hard go of it. I wish it didn’t have to be like this for him.  Did his dad say what was going to happen?”_

Finn leaned forward against the steering wheel, resting his head on his arms.  “Back to Dalton as soon as the dorms open.  He’s gonna call someone, to make sure that Blaine doesn’t see me, or Puck. Or talk to us or anything.”

 _“Okay.”_  Jeff was silent for a minute, and Finn could almost _hear_ his brain working.   _“Okay.  So.  Do you think his dad would let him talk to me, if I called?”_

Finn snorted.  “As long as your name isn’t Finn or Puck, I think you’ll be fine.”

 _“Good.  Are you okay to drive?”_  Jeff’s voice was even, with next to no intensity behind his words, but he was still making Finn relax.

“Yeah.  I think so.  If I get on the road and I’m not, I’ll pull over until I can go again.”

_“All right. I’ll call Blaine, talk with him if I can, and I’ll drop you an email with my plan.  I’ll have to make some calls of my own tomorrow, and I don’t want to interrupt your time with your Dom.  You need him tonight.”_

“Yeah.”  Finn sighed, thinking about the ways Carl would be able to help him.  “I do need him. Thanks, Jeff.  For everything.”

_“No worries, man.  And I’m here, if you need anything.  Any time of the night, really.”_

Finn took a breath and turned the key in the ignition.  “I believe that,” he said before telling Jeff goodnight and putting the car in gear.  

He didn’t look anywhere other than right in front of him.  He didn’t see Blaine, watching from his bedroom window.


	13. Finn & Blaine's Date Night, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued angst warning, along with m/m/m sex, Dom/sub turnabout and handballing (anal fisting). 
> 
> -amy

Blaine stood there watching and waiting for what felt like an eternity until Finn started his car and pulled out of the driveway.  He’d hoped that Finn would have fought harder, because Blaine hadn’t been able to fight at all once his father steered him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

It felt like winter all over again, like he was suddenly untethered and adrift.  He had no idea how to be _that_ Blaine anymore.  What he got from Finn, the way he was with Puck and Kurt, it was like he was his best self, and maybe he was a little bit in shock but he couldn’t even begin to see how to move forward alone.

“Blaine?”  His father opened his door without knocking.  “You have a phone call.  Someone named Jeff, said he’s in the Warblers with you.”

“Yes.” Blaine quickly wiped his eyes before turning from the window.

His father held out Blaine’s cell phone, which he’d taken along with Finn’s things.  “You may talk for five minutes.  I’ll be back to get the phone when your time’s up.”

Blaine tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear and waited until his dad had closed the door. “Christ, Jeff.  It’s a mess,” he began before Jeff could say a word.

_“Yeah.  Finn called me.  Are you going to be okay for the night?”_

Blaine sighed bitterly.  “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

 _“No, you really don’t.”_  Jeff paused.   _“Do you want me to come get you?”_

“That would be awesome, but I don’t think I need to give my dad any more reasons to want to lock me in a tower.  I suspect school is the only way I’m leaving this house.”

_“I’ll see you on Sunday.  But Blaine, I promised Finn I’d look out for you.  Do you think . . . I mean, I think Trey and I should switch, so I can be your roommate.”_

Blaine thought about how it had been at the end of last year, knowing that he could rely on Jeff when he needed direction and focus.  Blaine sighed and closed his eyes.  “I think- I think I might need that.”

_“Okay.  I’ll make some calls and get it set up. You can, I don’t know, tell your dad you need to be back early on Sunday because you’re helping me mentor the new Warblers.  I mean, as lead soloist it’s part of your job. It’s the next best thing to being on the Council.”_

Blaine flopped onto his bed.  The sheets were still rumpled, and Blaine could smell Finn and sex, and it made him cry all over again.

 _“Oh, babe, you’re not okay.”_  Jeff’s voice was full of concern.

“No,” Blaine sniffled.  “Not okay.”

Blaine’s door opened again, and his father was holding out his hand for the phone.  “Tell Jeff it’s time to go.”

“I gotta go,” he repeated doggedly.

_“Blaine, wait.  Just hold on, okay?  For tonight.  You’re not alone.  Finn’s working on things on his end.  We’ll figure this out.”_

“Okay,” Blaine sighed, afraid to say anything else. “Bye.”

He ended the call and closed his phone, handing it over to his father in silence.

“How’s your friend?”

“Fine.” It was an automatic response, but he wasn’t giving his father any more than that.He took a breath and let it out. “I have to go back early on Sunday.  Since I’m lead soloist, I need to help with the new Warblers.”

His father _tsk_ ed, crossing his arms. “They can’t do it without you?”

“It’s part of my responsibilities. I should take care of it myself.”

“Well, I think your escapades this weekend proved that you _can’t_ take care of yourself, so until I say otherwise, the rules are as follows: no Internet except for school work, and no phone calls from any of those boys. I’ll be screening your phone before you can talk to anyone while you’re here, and when you get back to school, I’m blocking their numbers from your account.”

Blaine just nodded and turned back to the window, already feeling numb. Even though Finn was long gone, Blaine had an irrational hope that he’d see him there, maybe standing under the trees with a boombox in some grand romantic gesture.

“You said you needed structure, Blaine.” His father’s voice softened. “I don’t know of another way to give you that.”

The fear and sadness threatened to overwhelm him. He forced himself to look up at his father. “Let me keep seeing Finn,” he pleaded. “He knows _exactly_ what I need.”

“No.  Not an option.  That boy, what the two of you were doing together?  That kind of thing can ruin your life.”  His father jammed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe.

“But… Dad, you don’t understand. What Finn and I do _saved_ my life.” Blaine had run out of words. He just stood there, waiting, willing his father to understand, but all his father did was shake his head and walk to the door.

“I understand all too well. You can’t play games with this business. It’ll wreck your reputation, and when you’re an Anderson, your reputation is all you have.” He gave Blaine a hard look. “You don’t have to agree. You just have to obey. If you try to see Finn or Puck again, I’ll send you to another school. I don’t mean one in Ohio. I mean out of the country. Do you understand? No contact. _You don’t know them.”_

Blaine sat there, feeling caught by the command, hardly able to breathe.

 _“_ I’m waiting, Blaine.”

He swallowed his tears and nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”

His father closed the door quietly behind him, leaving Blaine alone. Blaine went back to his bed and lay down, waiting for the tears, for some kind of emotional release, but neither one came.

Finn wasn’t here to take care of him. Puck wouldn’t be coming anymore. _None_ of them would be here anymore. He was going to have to save himself, now — the only way he knew how.

* * *

The drive home wasn’t the worst thing Finn had ever done, but it was definitely in the top ten. He had to stop twice to pull over, once because he thought he might hyperventilate, and the second because he had to forcibly remove his phone from his hand before he tried calling Blaine.  He ended up sitting on it for the last forty minutes of the drive back to Lima, and through town to the west side, up the winding road to Carl’s neighborhood.  

The spot around the back of the garage that had always housed Angela’s car was occupied with Ms. Pillsbury’s, and that was just about enough to provoke another bout of anxious tears.  He parked two blocks down the street and walked, just as he’d always done, because his car couldn’t be seen in Carl’s driveway. Finn was amazed he was thinking clearly enough to consider that, because the only thing running through his head was: _he’s all alone, in that awful house, and I left him there._

Ms. Pillsbury found him on the porch, shivering in the heat of the August evening.  She looked startled, and well she might, seeing as how Finn hadn’t been there in weeks.

“Finn?” she said.

“I have to see Carl,” he said, gritting his teeth.  “I... I _have to.”_

He didn’t volunteer any more information, and she didn’t ask.  She just took his hand and led him into the study where Carl was working, no announcement or anything.  Carl took one look and pushed the chair back from his desk, knocking over his coffee in his haste to get to Finn. None of them stopped to clean it up.

“Finn,” he said.

That one word was enough to set him off.  He stumbled into Carl’s arms, blubbering incoherently, because, god, he _knew_ it wasn’t going to be okay.  This was worse than it had been when Puck went away, because at least Puck had gone to be with people who loved him. Blaine was _alone._

Carl took him to the couch and made calming, shushing noises. He stroked his hair and held him while he cried and shook, and didn’t even bother to try to ask him to make any kind of sense.  

“I’m here,” he crooned, rocking him a little, and usually that would have pissed Finn off, but right now it was just about the only thing he wanted.  “You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not,” he sobbed.  “And Blaine... he’s not either, and I can’t do _anything.”_

“Tell me about Blaine.  What happened?” Carl tightened his arms around Finn, and Finn didn’t fight him.  Maybe if Carl held him tight enough, he’d stop aching.

“We were supposed to be okay.  His dad was supposed to be gone until Sunday, only he _wasn’t_ gone until Sunday, and it _wasn’t_ okay.”  Finn started crying again, at the thought of Blaine letting his father lead him out of the living room, how lost and helpless he’d looked.

“Oh, god,” Carl muttered.  “All right — okay, Finn, just sit up a little here.  I want you to tell me, is Blaine safe?  Do you think his father’s going to —”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.”  He sniffed, trying to calm down enough to speak rationally. “But he told Blaine he couldn’t -- that Puck, and I, that we couldn’t -- couldn’t _ever -- “_  Finn swallowed the next sob.  “He’s going back to Dalton, and that’s... that’s it.  We’re done.”

“Was it...” Carl gave him a measured look.  “Does he know, what you do for Blaine?”

Finn nodded.  “We _tried_ to explain.  But we just couldn’t make him understand that Blaine _needs_ that.” He was getting frustrated and angry all over again, thinking about it.  “This is going to break him, sir. He’s going to be worse than he was back in January, and I can’t help him.”

Carl took his hands and held them.  “Finn.  We’ll solve this.  We will.  But -- not tonight. Tonight you need...”  He stopped, and took a deep breath. “Where are your boys tonight?  Are they home?”

“What?  Um.  No,” he shook his head.  “It’s their date night.  They went down to Dayton, to Masque.”

“Ah.”  Carl nodded.  “Well.”

“I have to call my mom,” Finn said.

Carl pulled him in against his chest again, holding him close. “Emma will take care of that. You’re welcome to stay tonight. That’s not an invitation to... anything.  But my house is open to you, Finn, if you need a place to be, and... I would feel better, knowing you’re not alone.”

“Carl’s right,” came a soft voice from the doorway.  Finn opened his eyes through tears, and saw Ms. Pillsbury still standing there, watching Finn in Carl’s arms. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Uh... Miss P...” Finn leaned back from Carl, feeling panicked.  “This isn’t what it --”

“It’s okay, Finn,” Carl said, giving him some space, but keeping his hand on Finn’s knee. “It’s just as we talked about this summer. You can be truthful with her about what you need.”

“I don’t- jeez.  I don’t need anything.  I just —  _shit_.”  Tears pricked his eyes again.

“This is about Patrick?”  She smiled sadly at him, but she also looked a little uncomfortable, like she wasn’t sure what to do with a student showing up at _her_ boyfriend’s house on a weekend.

“You’ve seen us play together in the band,” Finn tried to explain. “But he’s also my, um. My boyfriend.”

“He’s your _boy,_ Finn,” Carl said gently.  

He glanced up at Ms. Pillsbury. He must have made some signal with his eyes, because she came around to the couch and sat across from the two of them.  She looked even more terrified for a moment, but then she nodded, her hands fluttering in her lap.

“Okay,” she murmured.  “That’s -- okay.  Yes.  And is that a new development? Because I believe at school I saw you were dating... Rachel?”

Finn could barely think to form coherent words about the situation with Rachel.  “Yeah.  Right. Rachel.  This is- it’s separate from her.  Patrick’s dad caught us tonight, and now we’re not gonna be able to see each other, and I can’t take care of him, and he needs it so badly. We both do.”

Emma nodded, looking troubled.  “That sounds terrible, Finn.  I can only imagine how  difficult it would be to have to have that conversation with your... boy’s father.  I don’t think I could do that.” She looked at Carl for permission, and when he nodded, she rose to her feet. “I’m going to go to bed. The two of you take all the time you need.” She made a little determined nod with her head, not quite a bow, then exited the room, leaving them alone together. Finn looked helplessly at Carl.

“I really don’t know why I came here,” he said.

Carl nodded. With great care and deliberation, he reached out and touched Finn’s knee again, watching his face the whole time as he did it. Finn felt his body respond instantly to the touch. He muffled a noise between tight lips.

“I think that’s why you did,” Carl said. “You were looking for somebody to tell you what to do.”

“Maybe.” Of course, Carl was right, but Finn could feel himself resisting Carl’s lead, trying to hold onto the control he’d maintained all summer. “You’re not going to tell me what to do.”

“I thought I might try to help you figure it out for yourself.” Carl’s voice was mild. His hand, resting on Finn’s knee, wasn’t applying any pressure, but Finn thought it might be having a greater impact for all of that. “You have a lot to deal with here. Blaine’s situation is only one part of it. I’m not intending to make it more complicated.”

Finn scrubbed his hand over his face and blinked at Carl.  “Sometimes it feels like there’s just too much to handle.  But I can’t just act like you don’t mean anything to me, because you do. And I...” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I _need_ you, okay?”

Carl’s face trembled, and for a moment, Finn thought he could see behind the mask, where suddenly Carl was bubbling over with relief and frustration -- and, overwhelming everything else, desire. But then he closed his eyes and took a short breath, and when he opened them, he was calm again.  Finn wanted to cry _please, let me see you, just let me in._  But he couldn’t say anything at all.

“That’s... good news,” Carl murmured.  He reached out and took Finn’s hand, and smiled at him. Carl’s smiles packed a significant wallop. All Finn could do was smile back, helplessly.  

Finn squeezed Carl’s hand.  “You think?  Because I’m not... I mean... god.  I don’t think I’m thinking real clearly right now.”

“No, it’s good,” Carl assured him. “Finn, you’re the one in charge of so many other people. You have to think about how to take care of yourself.  And if you know what you need, then you owe it to yourself to find a way to get that.  It’s part of being a responsible Top.”  He reached out and stroked the side of Finn’s cheek.

It was such a simple gesture that Finn almost didn’t react, but then he realized there were tears running down his face. He sniffled, and patted at his pockets trying to find his handkerchief, but Carl was quicker.  He leaned in, wiping away the tears for him.  Finn felt the flush of his skin like a blast furnace, and he found himself trembling with the effort not to react.  

“I need --” he whispered.  Then he launched himself forward into Carl’s arms, pressing their lips together in desperation.  

He worried for half an instant that Carl might push him away, but instead Carl’s hand was strong on the back of Finn’s head, keeping him close.  Carl’s mouth was hard and insistent, and Finn felt himself begin to crumble into pieces under its pressure.

“Yeah,” he muttered, when he pulled away for a breath.  “Yeah, let me…”  He surged forward again, scrabbling with his hands to tug fruitlessly at Carl’s belt.  “Please. I _need—_ “

Carl set a hand on Finn’s shoulder.  “No,” he said firmly.  “I’m not the answer tonight.”

He leaned back, his heart racing and his cock rock-hard. “But -- but I --”

 _“Finn.”_ Carl’s Voice jolted Finn back to himself, and he stared at his lap, his face burning.

“Yes, sir.”  

“You need to call your boys and ask them to come home.  They’re who you need tonight.”  He took their joined hands and pulled Finn off the couch, encouraging him to follow. Finn stumbled after him, almost losing his balance.  

“I don’t think I can be by myself,” he admitted.  “I feel -- I can’t do this alone, sir, it’s just too hard.”

“You’re not alone.”  Carl put a strong arm around his shoulder and guided him down the hall. “I’m right here, and I’m not letting you leave until I know you’ve got someone to watch over you.”

“I can’t do that to them,”  Finn sighed in frustration.  “ _I’m_ supposed to take care of _them_.  I don’t know how to ask them for that.”

“You’ve done it before.”  Carl gave him a pointed look, and Finn had to nod, reluctantly.  “They love you, and they’re both capable of giving you what you need.  You just have to ask.  There’s no shame in that.”  He took his own phone out of his pocket and touched the screen.  “I’m calling Kurt.”

Finn was surprised enough by the idea that Carl had Kurt’s number stored in his phone that he didn’t respond until it was too late.  “Uh --”

“Kurt?  It’s Carl.”  They stopped in the hallway, and Finn watched him with mild trepidation. “Yes. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening with Puck.  Finn has something he needs to ask you.”

He held out the phone to Finn, who regarded it like Carl was instructing him to pick up the business end of a scorpion.  Carl gave him a chiding look.  “What did I tell you?  You just have to _ask_ , Finn.”

Finn sighed and took the phone.  “Kurt?”

He could hear music in the background, and the thumping of the bass was heavy enough that he could feel it in his head even through the phone. _“I thought you were spending the night with Blaine. What’s going on, Finn?”_  Kurt’s voice was rising sharply.

“I’m... I can’t say, not over the phone.  Just, something bad happened. Please, baby.  I need you and Puck to come home.  I need -- I need you guys to...”  He glanced up at Carl desperately, and his voice shifted into a loud whisper. “To _take care of me_.”

_“Oh — yes. Okay. We’ll leave right now.  We can be home in an hour and a half.”_

Carl was gesturing for Finn to hand the phone back to him, which Finn did without question. He put it back to his ear.

“Kurt, I’m going to keep Finn here with me until you and Puck get home.  Why don’t you call me back at this number when you hit the edge of town, and I’ll send Finn home to you.”  He paused, then smiled, such a patient, loving smile that Finn had to look away.  “Yes, he’s safe. He’s had a difficult night, but he’ll be okay.  Drive safely, Kurt.  I’ll talk to you soon.”

Carl thumbed at the screen and disconnected the call, tucking the phone back into his pocket before taking Finn’s hand again.  

“Come with me, now.  We’ll be more comfortable in here.”

Finn followed Carl the rest of the way down the hall to his own bedroom.  Finn had half expected him to choose something in the other wing of the house, where there were rooms for scenes and equipped with beds and other furniture, all perfectly serviceable.  But he felt an overwhelming sense of relief to see Carl’s own furniture, to smell his own scents, to be back in the room where they’d spent so much time together earlier that year.  It was so intense and raw that he started crying again, and this time he couldn’t stop.  

Carl didn’t ask him to.  He sat him on the edge of the bed and unfastened Finn’s jeans, helping him take them off with gentle, clinical hands.  He unbuttoned Finn’s shirt the same way.  Then he shed his own shirt and jeans, pulled the covers back and helped Finn lie down, cradling him from behind.

“I’ve got you,” he said, holding him tight with one arm tucked over Finn’s and the other tucked under.  “You just go ahead and let it out.”

The permission was too enticing to resist, and Finn let go, allowing the sobs to take over.  They racked his body hard enough to make his head throb and his stomach clench, but he couldn’t have prevented them if he’d tried.  Through it all, he could hear Carl’s patient whispers, feel the strength in his arms, the warmth of his chest against his back, and the persistent pressure of Carl’s erection against his ass.

This last began to supersede all the others as his tears subsided, and he found himself moaning and thrusting back against Carl, not caring how ridiculous or desperate he sounded.  

“Please,” he begged.

“I’m here, Finn,” said Carl, his voice tight.  “You ask all you want.  I’m just going to hold you.  I know what you need.”

“I need _you,”_ he said, and he could _hear_ the sound of his own voice, knew exactly what it implied, but he was too far gone to restrain himself.  

“You need a good spanking, that’s what you need,” Carl said.  He cinched his arms more firmly around Finn’s, holding them down.  “You’re going to get it, too.  But not tonight.  Right now, this is what I can manage, without... “  He let out a sound that was a cross between a gasp and a groan as Finn thrust back against him again.   _“God_... without letting myself down.”

That gave Finn pause, and he sighed, still tingling from head to toe, as hard as he’d ever remembered being, but feeling the weight of responsibility.  “Okay, yeah,” he muttered.  “I know. And... I’m sorry.”

“Not _your_ responsibility, Finn.”  Carl stroked one hand down his arm, and even that was almost too much stimulation.  “You can be anything you need to be, right here.  I’m not going to stop you from expressing your desires.”

“Yeah, only your own.”  He tried not to sound bitter.  “I get it.”

He felt Carl’s sigh more than he heard it.  “Listen to me, my sweet boy.  I’m _not_ going to let this be our next time.  Not like this.  You deserve... everything.  Not a night of desperate fumbling. When we’re ready, Finn, you can bet you’re going to feel every bit of this energy we’ve been holding on to, all summer.  And I’m going to give it to you just... like... that.”

Finn whimpered, hearing Carl’s words, feeling his breath against his neck, so warm, so perfect.

“God, I miss you,” he cried, and clutched at the strong hands holding him.

Carl’s voice was almost too low to be heard.  “I miss you, too.”

* * *

The garage was already shut and locked when Finn pulled up, so he had to park in the driveway. He was jittery all over, wrung out from crying, and still so unsatisfied.  He kind of hated Carl, a little bit, for withholding everything, even though he understood why it had to be that way.  

He shut the car door quietly, and then proceeded to drop his keys three times before he made it into to the house.  The hallway light was on, and the rest of the house was silent, so he moved silently up the stairs.

“Sweetheart, is that you?” Kurt’s voice from the top stair was tender, gentle, and tinged with a hint of worry.  

“Yeah,” he whispered. He reached the step below Kurt and reached out for him, pulling him close and kissing him passionately.

“Wait,” Kurt said, pulling away.  “Slow down.  What happened with Blaine?”

“I --”  Finn paused, and then shook his head.  “I can’t.  Not yet.  Jesus, Kurt.”  He pressed their bodies together, desperate.  He was still hard, frustrated from the lack of all kinds of release. “ _Please_.”  He was begging again. It felt like that was all he’d been doing all night: begging Mr. Anderson for understanding, Carl for release.  And now Kurt, for… something. But Kurt seemed to understand.  

Puck appeared at the foot of the stairs. He was still wearing a black t-shirt and the eyeliner he’d put on for the club. His face was cautious, but when he saw Finn’s distress, it grew strangely calm.  

“Hey,” he said quietly. He climbed the stairs, one step at a time, and slid up behind Finn, wrapping arms around his waist and tucking his head into the space between Finn’s shoulder blades.

Kurt sighed.  “Okay... it’s okay. Let’s go in my room.”

He led Finn, and when they were all inside, he closed the door behind them. Then he took Finn’s face in his hand and kissed him gently.

“What do you need, man?” Finn felt Puck’s hands at the hem of his t-shirt, and he shivered a little.  

“Maybe that’s the wrong question,” Kurt said, stroking Finn’s face.  It felt so much like what Carl had done earlier that Finn winced and twisted away.  Kurt looked at him in surprise.  “Hmmm.”

“He needs _something,_ that’s for sure.”  Puck swept his hands up under Finn’s shirt, over his head, and discarded it on the floor.  Finn glanced over his shoulder at him, startled by Puck’s hands gripping his biceps.

“What-” he began, and Kurt pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shhhh,” he soothed.  “We’re going to take care of you.”

“Now get on the bed,” Puck growled into his ear.

For a moment, Finn was caught, almost unable to move.  Kurt’s smile was kind, but it was Puck’s little shove that got him in motion.  Numbly, he climbed up onto Kurt’s bed, and the clenching in his gut wasn’t entirely unpleasant.  

“Let me,” he said, pulling Puck toward him and tugging at the button on Puck’s jeans.  But Puck pulled away and shook his head.

“Someone needs to be taught some patience, Kurt.”  There was something slightly disapproving in Puck’s voice.  Finn felt immediately uneasy.  

“I’m sorry,” he said, but neither one of them seemed to be paying attention.

“You’re right,” Kurt said, sitting on the bed next to Finn.  “He really should be naked, though.  You want to take care of that?”  He looked at Puck and Puck nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice rough.  Puck’s hands were warm and gentle at Finn’s waist as he made quick work of Finn’s shorts and boxers, then slid his hands down to frame Finn’s hard cock. He smiled at Kurt.  “He’s so ready, baby.  Look at him.”

“Guys,” Finn protested, but his word was cut off by the pressure of Kurt’s hand over his mouth.  

“I think he needs you to give him something, sweetheart,” Kurt said matter-of-factly.  “I think he needs to be fucked.”

Finn’s gasp was echoed by Puck’s delighted laugh. He could felt himself slipping away, into the current of Kurt’s words and the rumble of Puck’s voice.  

“That’s totally what I was thinking,” said Puck.  

Finn felt hands coaxing him into a familiar position, on his hands and knees, and then down, his face low enough to brush against the pillowcase.  

“He’s just begging for it,” Puck added, and two fingers breached him suddenly, dry and rough. Finn cried out at the same time that he pressed back into them, seeking more, needing it.  

 _I_ ** _am_** _begging for it,_ he thought in amazement, and the thought felt like the sweetest freedom.  He chased after it, opening his mouth and letting himself say -- unbelievable things.

“Please,” he said, and then again, a little louder.  “Please, I need...”

Kurt’s voice was low and intense against his skin.  “We know just what you need.”  He kissed him, tenderly.  “Be a good boy, let Puck take it from you, or we’ll have to tie you up.”

Finn closed his mouth on the words that threatened to escape, because they were just too embarrassing to contemplate, and he felt a third finger join the first two.  He whimpered.

“So amazing,” Puck said.  “And so fucking hot, baby.  I can’t believe how _hot_ he looks like this.”

“Do you think he’s ready, sweetheart?  Ready for you to fuck him until he screams?”  Kurt stroked his hand up and down the length of Finn’s spine, and Finn felt his body almost buckle at the sensation.

“Oh, yeah,” Puck hummed.  “He wants it hard, I can tell.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Finn moaned, because it was the only word he could summon.  

“Shhhh,” Kurt whispered again, right into his ear that time, and Finn shivered.  Puck’s fingers disappeared, and Finn pressed back into open air, seeking the friction and fullness he was missing. He’d never felt so much like crying at the same time he was desperate to come. There was a momentary pause, during which time he could only feel Kurt’s breath on his cheek, his lips on his mouth and face. Then there was a tight, warm pressure against his hole. He moaned again, with more force, while Puck wedged his thighs under Finn’s knees.

“Beg me for it,” he demanded.

“F-fuck me,” whispered Finn. And then, again, louder, he said it again, feeling the dizzying force of his own desire. “Fuck me. Please.”

Even after they were in action, he kept saying it, letting the words be his mantra. Even after Puck was inside him, even after he’d set up a steady, brutal rhythm that threw him forward into the mattress. _Fuck me, please, fuck me._ He wasn’t sure what they were doing, what need was being met, because he couldn’t think clearly, he could just plead for them not to stop. _Fuck me, please, fuck me._

“He’s not going to scream.” Kurt sounded regretful. “I don’t think you can fuck him hard enough. Maybe you should stop.”

“No,” he moaned. He mashed his face into the pillow and reached back with his own hands, pulling his ass cheeks apart. _Deeper, harder, more. Fuck me._

“Remember when we were both inside you at the same time, sweetheart?” Kurt asked. The question was directed at Puck, but Kurt ran his hand up and down Finn’s spine as he spoke, stuttering a little on each impact of Puck’s body against him. Sometimes he let his hand run underneath Finn, stroking his cock just enough to accelerate him into a new plane of wanting, but then stopping before he could get close to coming. Finn heard himself whimpering.

“I bet he would like that too,” said Puck.

“Your hand,” Finn heard himself saying. “Please. Your whole hand.”

Kurt and Puck both slowed down, apparently contemplating this. The four fingers of Kurt’s slender hand, compressed into a cone shape, was absolutely as far as Finn had gone toward Carl’s goal of stretching him wide enough to accept an entire fist. But he knew he could take it now. He’d continued with Carl’s plug regimen a few days each week, and he only had a few plugs left now to last him until his birthday. That wasn’t until January, so he’d slowed down the pace. The largest plug was smaller than a fist, but definitely bigger than a small apple at its widest point. He’d come to relish the fullness of having a plug inside him most of the time all year, and had learned not to let himself appreciate it sexually. Now, the idea had come to represent exactly what he wanted and couldn’t have. He’d never asked Kurt to go beyond four fingers — because he’d wanted Carl to do it first.

 _But Carl had told him he needed Kurt and Puck,_ he thought, in a haze of desperation. _He knew what I wanted, and he… he told me I should do this, instead._ It could have hurt, to know Carl was giving away that experience with him, but instead it just made him cry harder, to know Carl was still taking care of him in every way he could.

“You want Kurt’s hand?” Puck asked, speaking directly to Finn for the first time that night. “Are you sure?”

Finn nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Please, just — I’m sure.”

Puck’s voice dropped into a seductive purr. “Before or after I come inside you?”

“Oh, god,” cried Finn.

“I think that means _after,_ sweetheart.” Kurt sounded so satisfied. “Go ahead and fill him up, and then I’ll take over.”

Puck ran a big, broad hand over Finn’s back, right between his shoulder blades, and pressed him forward, hard, forcing him prone. Leaning forward on top of him, he was as commanding as Finn had ever seen him.

“You’d better not even think about coming.”

“No, god, no, I won’t, just — don’t stop, please.”

It felt like Puck took his time after that, but it was probably less than thirty seconds before he slammed hard into Finn, jerking his hips and groaning through his own release. Finn bit his own lip hard enough to make it bleed, although he didn’t realize he’d done that until the next day.

“All right.” Kurt touched Finn with his fingertips again, only this time he was wearing a rubber glove. It felt slick with lubricant. Finn never wanted that, but Carl had informed him that any time he had more than a dick inside him, he _would_ use lube to help guard against microtears inside his body.

Kurt worked one, then two fingers inside, then tucked his thumb under and began the slow, intense pressure of getting past the bulge of his thumb. Finn groaned and squirmed, leaning into it.

“Oh, Finn,” Kurt breathed. “You… I had no idea this would look so good.”

There was no pretense of anonymity now. Of course Kurt knew him. He knew exactly what Finn had been wanting for months, and now, apparently, he wasn’t going to stop until he gave it to him. Even in the midst of pain and chaos, Finn felt the reverberation of thanks for Kurt in his bed, in his ass, in his life. He clutched for Puck’s hand with his own.

“I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you both. And — god, I’m so scared.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Kurt said, but Finn was crying now, crying into the delicious amazing pressure of Kurt’s fist inside him, because he knew it _wasn’t_ going to be okay.

“Blaine was right,” he sobbed, “it’s so, so bad.”

Kurt’s fist, as it happened, was the opposite of bad, was inspiring him to new sensations every time he nudged a little further inside him. Eventually, Finn braced his hands on the bed and pushed back, forcing Kurt to take it the rest of the way, because he didn’t want Kurt to think he was hurting him. They both exclaimed a little at the experience of having Kurt’s hand swallowed up by his body.

Suddenly, Kurt was wrist-deep inside Finn. The intense pressure was gone, replaced by new sensations, ones that made him beg for more.

“Would you… please… fuck me like this?” he asked carefully.

Kurt made a noise, a hungry one. “I won’t hurt you? Are you sure?”

“No,” Finn admitted. “I’m not. But I really want to find out.”

“This is new territory for me. I don’t think I can do anything except listen to you and go… really… slowly.” Kurt pushed a little, then pulled out a little, and did it again, trying different angles each time. When Kurt adjusted his fingers — Finn couldn’t tell exactly how, not from the outside — he could suddenly feel each knuckle.

“Can I tell you what I want?”

At Kurt’s emphatic nod, he looked over at Puck, who was eye level with him off the edge of the bed.

“Puck, your hand, around me, lubed up. And Kurt, real slow, drag your knuckles up — like that, then back in, then — ohh, god, ohh.” He closed his eyes, feeling momentarily nauseated, but it passed in another wave of sensation. “Like that. Thank you.”

“Okay if I kiss you?” Puck’s question was thick with his own emotions. Finn could hear worry and love and excitement, and so much desire.

Finn nodded hard, a wordless plea. When he felt Puck’s lips on him and Puck’s hand around him and Kurt’s knuckles inside him, all at once, and he started crying again because he was going to come in five seconds.

“Wait,” he gasped, and all motion ceased. He let out a few sobs, held his breath, and then said, “Okay, go again.”

This time he couldn’t resist the slide off the cliff, and he fell into pulsing, shooting orgasm within seconds of Kurt’s hand moving. The most amazing thing was, he didn’t stop coming for about thirty more seconds.Every time he thought he was done, there’d be another wave of sensation, and he’d feel his cock jerk in Puck’s hand, and he would squeeze out another dribble of fluid — and the sensation would travel into where Kurt’s hand was inside him, and begin all over again. Every time Kurt would stop, Finn would beg, _“More,_ no, keep going,” and Kurt would oblige.

Finn continued the cycle a few more times, but finally it did stop. They helped Finn lie down on the soaking wet sheets while Kurt stripped off his glove.

“Wow,” Kurt said eventually.

Finn nodded, breathing as hard as though he’d run a marathon.It wasn’t the haze he usually felt at the end of an intense scene. He was oversensitized, feeling every little ache, magnified inside, but he was entirely _present_ to all of it.

Kurt lay down beside him, one leg thrown over Finn’s hip, hugging him with his entire body. Finn could feel Kurt’s cock, hot and twitching against his hip.

“You’re not done,” Finn said.

Kurt shook his head. “I was too worried about you. But that… was incredible, Finn. I feel like I almost don’t need to come after that.”

“Almost,” Puck echoed. He tucked a hand between Kurt and Finn, wrapping it around Kurt and starting the rhythm that Kurt liked.

“Talk to me about how it felt,” Kurt said, already breathless and thrusting into his hand.

“Your knuckles,” said Finn. “I could feel them inside, rubbing, every time you went in, and then when you — when you shifted a little, I could tell I just wanted it really hard and really fast, right in that spot. You could have made me come, like Noah does, just with your hand inside there. But — “ He paused his words while Kurt ground up against his leg, and slipped a hand down between his cheeks to press against him, not quite inside but very close. “But I really liked the hand on my cock too. It made it a lot quicker.”

“Finn,” Kurt cried, reaching for his neck to pull his mouth closer. Finn could feel every last shudder in Kurt’s body through the pressure of his lips, the moans he captured in his own mouth as he came. Finally, Kurt relaxed, limp, in his arms. Finn gathered him up and held him tightly, feeling the tears beginning again.

“Puck,” he said.

“Here.” Puck was climbing into the empty space in Kurt’s bed behind Finn. Finn turned and kissed him hard, bringing forth moans.

“You guys took such fucking good care of me,” he said. He could hear the way his own voice came out jagged, like broken glass. “I gotta tell you what happened tonight, but… I wanted you to know how much that meant to me. You were so totally in charge. And Carl… Carl knew you would know what to do.” He paused. “How did he know that?”

Kurt lifted his head off Finn’s chest, looking across him at Puck. “We, uh. We may have had this conversation with him already. He predicted someday you might need that from somebody other than him, and that it should be us.”

Finn screwed up his face and held in the tears, trying to keep breathing evenly. “Yeah. He’s always taken good care of me, too.”

“Finn,” said Puck, and his voice was sober. “What happened with Blaine?”

It took the better part of twenty minutes to get the whole story out, but most of Finn’s debilitating emotions were under control now. Kurt and Puck listened in shock, holding tight to Finn’s hands.

“No contact?” Puck said. His face was pale gray, and he looked like he might want to leap out of bed that moment and go kidnap Blaine from his house. “You and me, nothing?”

“No. His dad made that clear. He’s got ears and eyes everywhere at Dalton.” He touched Kurt on the shoulder. “You’re going to have to be the one to call him, Kurt. His dad doesn’t know about you, or if he does, he thinks you’re just Blaine’s friend.”

“Right now,” Kurt said, reaching for his phone, but Finn shook his head.

“His dad took away his phone, but I bet we could find a way to smuggle him one of those pay-as-you-go phones? And we have to talk to people on his floor, ask them to keep an eye on him. I’ll try Jeff. Maybe some of the other Warblers can help, I think I remember their names.”

“Fuck. He must be totally freaking out.” Puck looked hard at Finn. “His dad saw the flogger?”

“Yeah, that was what did it,” he sighed. Now that the adrenaline was running its course, he could feel a headache beginning. “I need some water and something to eat.”

Puck hopped up obligingly, reaching into Kurt’s drawer for a clean t-shirt. “On it.”

“Thanks. Kurt, can you come in the shower with me?”

Kurt helped him off the bed, watching him as he carefully tried standing up. “You’re trying to manage your own aftercare,” he pointed out.

Finn chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I am. You want to help take care of me?”

“I’ll do my best.” He walked beside Finn across to the bathroom that joined their two rooms, then when he was seated on the toilet, went back and stripped the soaked sheets off his bed. “I could use a new set of sheets. I vote we all sleep in your room tonight.”

Finn was grateful for a few moments of solitude, because cleanup after an activity like the one they’d just done was maybe a little more messy than he really wanted to share with Kurt. By the time Kurt returned to the bathroom, he was standing and gingerly walking around. He gave Kurt a rueful grimace.

“You okay?” Kurt asked. “I mean… inside.”

“Sore,” said Finn. “But wow, that was so worth it. Give me a week to recover and we are totally doing that again.”

Kurt wrapped his arms around Finn, resting his head on Finn’s chest, and sighed. “Yes, sir.”

Finn hugged him back. “You’re going to have to be the one to take care of Blaine, you know.”

“I will,” Kurt said immediately. “Whatever he needs, I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“I know you will. You love him as much any of us. It’s just…” Finn stood back to look seriously into Kurt’s face. “I think he can’t say _no_ to his father. Even if he wants to, he’s not capable of it. I watched them together and it was a little scary. More than a little.”

Kurt nodded. His face was a little scared, too. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They showered as quickly as they could, appreciating the enormous shower stall, and relocated to Finn’s room to eat the cheese and crackers and paté and juice that Puck brought up from the kitchen.Puck took a turn in the shower before joining them, seating himself on the floor next to Finn’s knee. Whatever Toppish tendencies he’d exhibited earlier, they seemed to be dormant again.

Finn rested a hand on Puck’s head, and he sighed.

“I’m really sorry I ruined your date night,” said Finn.

“Hey, no!” Puck shook his head, just as Kurt said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Finn.”

Finn smiled sadly. “Maybe we can try another date night again, someday?”

There was a silence while they considered just how long _someday_ might be from now.

“I just can’t deal with thinking about him all alone at his dad’s,” said Puck. “He hates being alone.”

“Jeff said he’d watch out for him when he gets back to school.”

Puck looked down at his hands. “Do you think, uh, it would be okay if I prayed for Blaine?”

Kurt gave Finn a swift, distressed glance, but Finn said, “Yeah, absolutely. You can do that.”

Kurt got to his feet and wrapped his robe around himself. “I’m going to turn out the lights and lock up downstairs.”

Puck watched him go unhappily. “I knew he wasn’t going to like that idea.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, though. Kurt doesn’t have to agree with everything you do.” Finn watched him curiously as he climbed onto the bed and sat there, legs crossed, with his elbows on his knees. “You want me to… go somewhere else?”

“Maybe,” Puck said apologetically.“It’s not like I’m performing. It’s just between me and God.”

“Sure, yeah.” Finn went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and brushed his teeth for a particularly long time. He flossed, even though he never did that, thinking about Carl’s visit. That led to thinking about Carl, and about what Carl had said to him earlier that night.

He held the words close to his heart: _I’m not going to let this be our next time. You deserve... everything._

 _Blaine does, too,_ he thought. _I’m not going to let tonight be our last time, either. I’m going to handle this._


	14. Grilled Cheesus, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Details and analysis of the second and third books in Nick Bantok’s first Griffin and Sabine trilogy can be found [here](http://gatheringbooks.org/2011/02/16/sabines-notebook-and-the-golden-mean-by-nick-bantock-in-which-the-extraordinary-correspondence-of-griffin-sabine-is-further-examined/). 
> 
> Eventual quoting from 2x03 Grilled Cheesus. I eliminated the actual grilled cheese sandwich from this episode because it was too much comic relief for my straight take on Glee, but the religious elements of the episode are still here. I messed with the timeline of the episode a little, too, to make it fit. [The Losing My Religion scene, however, needs no editing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_oyHIBHrp0), and watching it makes me cry. 
> 
> -amy

The first thing Kurt did when he woke up on Saturday was to call Blaine. He’d already texted him, just one word, COURAGE, but he hadn’t gotten a response.

Kurt felt his heart sink when he heard the voice mail message speak to him in an unfamiliar male voice.

_“This is Blaine Anderson’s cell phone. Blaine is on a temporary phone hiatus. If you need to get a message to him, call his father, Darren Anderson, at 380-887-2109.”_

There was no beep to leave a message. Kurt was not about to call Blaine’s father, at least not yet. He’d be able to do more if he stayed under the radar. He tried Blaine’s email, too, but he got a bounce back immediately saying his account had been suspended. He’d have to trust that Blaine would find a way to get him a message.

The next person he called was Jeff, who sounded a little tired but glad to talk to Kurt. Finn sat with him on speakerphone.

 _“He was pretty messed up on the phone last night,”_ Jeff told him. _“I’m gonna pull some strings today and get our room assignments switched around so I can be his roommate.”_

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Kurt sighed. “I know this is a lot to put on you.”

_“No, no. Blaine’s a good kid. I’m gonna talk to some of the rest of the Warblers council and tell them what makes sense for them to know. Not the, uh. Discipline. We’ll keep that private.”_

“Thank you again, Jeff. Please call me tonight and let me know how he’s doing, all right? I can drive out any day this week, just let me know when it makes sense to come.”

After a little thought, Kurt decided to call Irene. He didn’t know her very well, but he knew she’d known Blaine a long time.

“I’m hoping, if his dad’s going to make him come home every weekend — and I’m guessing he will — that he can make it out to Java the Hut to do some singing,” Kurt told her. “If you see him, would you please call me?”

 _“Sure thing, Kurt,”_ she said in her warm, serious voice. _“I have some eyes on Darren Anderson that he might not know about. I’ll make sure Blaine doesn’t get himself into trouble.”_

All of this made Kurt feel ready to tell his dad and Carole about the situation when they went down to breakfast. Sarah sat beside him and looked completely pissed on his behalf.

“This is _so_ messed up,” she declared.

“Do you think he’s in danger of harming himself?” Carole said, her face worried. “I know he had some trouble with drugs in the past.”

“Jeff won’t let him do that stuff anymore,” Finn said. “Even if he wanted to, Jeff was his supplier, and he won’t give him any.”

His dad didn’t look happy about that. “This guy who wants to be his roommate was giving him drugs? Kurt, I don’t want you around that stuff.”

“He’s not doing drugs around Blaine, I promise,” Finn said. Kurt knew he’d slept fitfully, and he looked it, his eyes dark and hollow. He ran a hand over his hair. “Puck and I have to get to football practice.”

“You don’t have to go,” Kurt told him. Finn shook his head.

“It’ll keep me busy. I’m going to eat my brain if I sit around here all day.” He gave Kurt a little kiss, which definitely spoke to how distracted he was, because he seldom did that in front of Burt and Carole. They didn’t comment.

“I want to help,” Sarah announced. Kurt smiled at her.

“You want to figure out how to get around this block on his email?”

“Lauren can help with that,” she said eagerly. “Send it to me and we’ll work on it this afternoon. We’re getting together to look at drainage solutions for the back acre. I think we’re going to install an aerobic waste water treatment unit next spring.”

Kurt was grateful he didn’t have Cheerios practice anymore, but Finn had a point. He needed to do something active. He put on a pair of tennis shoes and went for a slow jog south on Bellefontaine. It was strange living on a rural road after growing up in town, but he appreciated the anonymity. Nobody stopped him and asked about his family, and on a day like today, that was a very good thing.

He managed to keep himself busy enough with homework and chores that when Puck and Finn got home, he was feeling reasonably optimistic.

“I know it’s awful that we can’t get in touch with him,” he said, leading them back upstairs to his room, “but we’ll figure it out. Blaine has a lot of people looking out for him.”

“Yeah, his father,” sighed Finn. “But yeah, okay, you’re right. I told Coach Beiste about what happened to him. She was furious. Said she was about ready to pay his father a visit.”

Puck snickered. “I’d like to be there for that.”

“It’s not funny,” Finn insisted. “He’s got a lot of power at that school. It’s all the money he gives them, I guess. I wonder if that’s why Blaine is lead Warbler.”

Puck looked completely offended. “No way! It’s because he’s awesome.”

Kurt got the books he’d taken off his shelf and brought them over to the bed. “Come on,” he said, climbing up to sit in the middle. Finn and Puck sat on either side of him. “I think we need some inspiration. Later we can sing all of Blaine’s favorite songs.”

“That’s just gonna make me cry all over again,” said Finn. But he smiled when Kurt held out the first book on the stack, titled _The Golden Mean_. “I haven’t read that one yet.”

“No,” said Kurt. “I haven’t, either. I was saving it for a special occasion. But you read the first and second books, right?”

“We read them after I slashed the tires on Vocal Adrenaline’s Range Rovers,” said Puck, “and Finn got Carl to come over and cane me for it?”

He didn’t seem self-conscious about that memory, which told Kurt he was in a good space. “That’s right. Do you remember what happened in the story?”

“Griffin went all over the world, avoiding Sabine, and she went to his house,” said Finn. “But when he came back to her, the house was empty. But she wrote him a letter saying, _where are you?_ It was really creepy.”

They settled in close to Kurt as he opened the book to the first page. They read it aloud, with Finn reading Sabine and Kurt reading Griffin, as always. Kurt thought he might feel too distracted to read, but he was drawn right into the story, in which Sabine’s usually clear visions of Griffin’s artwork were mysteriously darkened.

Puck looked distressed as they read. At one point he paused and touched the page.

“I didn’t dream about Blaine last night,” he said. “I don’t think I dreamed at all.”

Kurt knew Puck’s sleep had been as disruptive as ever, but he just nodded. “You were exhausted.”

“That’s never stopped me before. I think something was in the way.”

Kurt had no reply to that that wasn’t going to irritate Puck. _I don’t believe in that_ was something he didn’t have to say, and bringing it up again was just going to make things more uncomfortable.

The next page, however, brought them all up short. They sat there and stared at it.

“Holy shit,” Finn breathed. “Kurt, did you know about this?”

“No, I — no!” Kurt looked again at the page, where the words “Puck” and “Fin” were printed, as clear as day.

Puck was grinning. “This is so fucking cool. I always knew this was our story. I can’t wait to tell —“ He cut himself off, his smile vanishing.

“I swear, I had no idea this was going to happen,” Kurt said again. “It’s just a massive coincidence.”

Puck and Finn both stared at him like he was crazy. “Are you kidding?” Finn asked.

“Finn, not you, too?” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Come on. There’s nothing mystical happening here. It’s just a book, written by a man. It’s not about _us.”_

“I wonder who the dreaded Lugs is,” Finn mused. “Maybe that’s Blaine’s dad.”

“He did take away Blaine’s cell phone,” Puck agreed. “What about the half banana boat?”

Kurt closed the book, hard, and set it on the bed. “All right, I need a break.”

“Kurt, come on!” Finn called. “Don’t be like that.”

“I can’t talk about this right now. Just — give me a little bit. Can we go make lunch?”

Puck made them all grilled cheese while Finn and Kurt sat in uncomfortable silence. He brought it over to them and set it down in the middle of the table. He touched Kurt’s shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you want to pray before you eat,” snapped Kurt.

“I might,” said Puck. “But I’ll do it in my head so you won’t have to hear it, okay?”

That made Kurt flush with shame. He grabbed Puck’s hand and kissed it, holding it to his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so on edge right now. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Baby, it’s okay.” Puck dragged a chair close and sat down next to Kurt, holding him. Kurt tried to relax in Puck’s arms. “This is all pretty confusing. I’m just trying to make sense of it in the way I know how. And to be grateful for what I have. It’s still a lot.”

Finn smiled at the two of them. “Yeah, you’re right. It really is.”

Later, Kurt saw Finn doing something in his own room that looked like praying. He just walked quickly past and didn’t say anything about it, and tried not to feel uncomfortable.

* * *

Kurt hurried home from school on Monday afternoon, prepared to get in the car and drive to Westerville, but when he called Jeff to check in with him, Jeff’s first words were,  _“I don’t think you should come, Kurt.”_

He paused on the porch, fumbling for his keys at the same time he was balancing his phone by his ear. “Is there a better day this week? I don’t want to wait too —“

_“No, you don’t understand. I don’t understand either, but… he’s not being himself.”_

Kurt set his bag down in the front hall and sat on the bench, frowning. “What do you mean?”

_“He’s… pretending. Really hard. I don’t know if you realize, he has a history of being like that a lot, Kurt. Trying to be perfect? Only now it’s all the time, and he won’t even relax when nobody else is around. I got the rooms switched around so we’re together now, but he’s still being that way even in our room. I think… he could use a little time to get used to the new situation before you come.”_

Kurt didn’t like Jeff’s uneasy tone. “What aren’t you saying, Jeff?”

 _“Jesus,_ ” he muttered. _“Well, he — I told him you were coming, and he kind of let his eyes wander away and asked, Kurt, who’s that, and I said it’s your boyfriend, and he let out this fake laugh and said, I don’t have a boyfriend. That was in our room, Kurt, with nobody else around. He wasn’t pretending for me. I think… I think he was pretending for himself.”_

A shiver of ice dripped down Kurt’s spine. He wasn’t sure he could take a complete breath, his chest felt so heavy.

“I can see why you’d be worried,” he finally said.

_“Yeah. So you can come out if you want, but I don’t know what he’s going to be like. I think it would be better to see if this resolves, and maybe come later in the week, or next week, okay? I promise I won’t let him do anything stupid.”_

“No drugs,” Kurt said firmly. “Unless his doctor prescribes them.”

_“Got it. I won’t let him get near them, scout’s honor.”_

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Just do whatever you can. He needs to know he can trust somebody.”

Kurt abandoned his messenger bag by the door and kicked off his shoes before heading upstairs to the elevated family room that lay between Puck’s rooms and theirs. It was, among other things, the logical home for the green couch. Kurt stopped in his room and heaved his enormous new king-sized duvet off his bed, dragging it through the hallway and up the three steps to where the couch was. It wasn’t until he reached the corner seat that he was finally able to relax and close his eyes.

 _It’s Monday and I’m already exhausted,_ he thought. _This is going to be a long week._

* * *

“Thanks for picking my brother up at the bus station,” said Sarah, climbing into the passenger seat of Lauren’s F-150.

“Sure thing,” said Lauren. “But don’t you have kind of a plethora of brothers with cars now?”

“Finn and Puck have football practice. They have a game this weekend. I could have asked Kurt, but he’s a little freaked out about Blaine right now. I don’t think I need to throw a new family member into the mix.”

“Yeah, I’m still trying to figure out how you all managed to hide this other brother from Puck all this time.” She glanced curiously at Sarah as she pulled out of the middle school parking lot. “What’s up with Blaine? I thought things were kind of awesome for them.”

“That was before Blaine’s dad told him he can’t see them. Any of them. Except he doesn’t know about Kurt, so in theory Kurt could visit? But Blaine’s having some weird mental break.” She shrugged. “I don’t know him all that well, but they miss him and they’re sad, so I’m sad for them.”

Jake was waiting at the bus station when they got there. He even tolerated Sarah giving him a hug. To Lauren, he held out his hand and said, formally, “Jake Puckerman.”

“I’m impressed your mom gave you a half day off school to come up here,” Lauren said, shaking his hand.

“Oh, it’s, uh. My therapist is in Lima, so she can justify the day off. And my mom, she likes Sarah. I think she really likes the idea of me having friends.” He made a face, and Lauren laughed.

“You have friends,” Sarah objected.

“Yeah, just none of them are in Mansfield. I think she thinks online friends don’t count.”

Even though they’d moved outside of town, it was still a short drive to the house. Jake looked impressed by the size of the place and the grounds.

“Toby talks about Lima like it’s the armpit of the midwest, but I figured it couldn’t be any worse than Mansfield. And this is really nice.” Jake peered around the front hall dubiously. “Are you sure it’s okay with your foster dad if I’m here without any grownups around?”

“I’m almost twelve,” said Sarah.

Jake’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Translation: you didn’t ask.”

“Well, maybe not. But Lauren’s here. She can be the responsible adult. It’s not like we’re making napalm or something.”

They warmed up some of Puck’s sausage rolls in the oven while Sarah got out the casserole dish still half-full of mac & cheese. The food impressed Jake even more than the house.

“What’s up with this?” Jake asked, his mouth full. “Your brother makes all this food?”

“He stress-cooks. Every night he hasn’t been with Dad this week, he’s been in the kitchen after school. The whole fridge is full of stuff.”

“I thought he was this badass.”

Sarah snickered. “Has Toby been telling you stuff about him? No, he just pretends. Less and less all the time. I thought maybe he’d go back to that this week, bullying kids and being the asshole, but I actually think this prayer group Dad’s doing with him is helping. Though I don’t think he’s telling Dad he’s been praying for his boyfriend.”

“So he’s your dad, too?” Lauren asked. Jake and Sarah both nodded.

“Not that he’s exactly a catch,” Jake said. “My mom hates him. You’d think that being a cop would help her work out her aggressions, but I think it makes them worse. Sometimes I think _she_ should be the one in therapy.”

“You think you’re angry because of Dad?”

Jake shrugged, taking another huge bite of pasta. “Holly says it doesn’t matter all that much _why_ I get angry. I mean, she’s not that kind of therapist. We’re not trying to fix the problem. She’s giving me tools to help me deal.”

“And it’s better?” Sarah looked skeptical.

“Lots,” he said, nodding. “Toby helps too, but it’s mostly better because of my group online. Holly set it up for us. We talk every day. It’s like, I don’t know, a support group for kids she sees. It could be stupid but it’s really not.”

“No, I get it,” Lauren said, nodding. “ Isn’t that why people go to church? Like-minded people together in a room on a regular basis. I do something like that too.”

Sarah snorted. “Dude, I don’t think most churches get together to talk about handcuffs.”

Jake looked a little confused, but Lauren kicked Sarah under the table, and she put on an innocent expression.

“We’re not all that like-minded, actually,” Jake said. “There’s a jock, and a nice kid, and one who’s a drama geek, and… me, I guess I’m the weird one.”

“You?” Sarah raised an eyebrow. “ _You’re_ the weird one?”

“ _You_ try saying _I’m a dancer_ in the middle of a bunch of eighth graders and see how quickly people start calling you _fag,”_ Jake said, glaring at her. “Except you’re a girl, so you could totally get away with it.”

“I think everybody feels like the weird one,” Lauren said. “We all have things. Hidden things. Well, except Sarah.”

“Yeah, I can’t say I’m all that good at hiding.” She nudged Jake. “So can I come play in your group? Sounds like fun. And we could talk online.”

Jake shook his head. “You can’t just _show up._ It’s a secure server, Holly had it designed to meet rules about therapists online and stuff, so you need a password. And you can only be there if there’s a reason. We’re all in therapy for different things. It can’t be just, you know, because you’re bored. You need to be working something out.”

Sarah crossed her arms and regarded him. “My mom died last year. I think that qualifies. Plus, all this stuff with our dad? I mean, I can’t remember any of it, but from what Noah and Timmy tell me, it would _definitely_ qualify. If I told Tatenui I wanted therapy, he’d probably let me.”

Jake sighed, shaking his head, but he was grinning. “Only you would _ask_ for something like that. I guess I could talk to Holly. She’s not really taking clients anymore, though, because she’s taking classes to be a teacher. She’s just subbing right now.”

When it came time for Lauren to take Jake over to Holly’s apartment and she was putting Holly’s address into her phone’s GPS, Lauren paused and looked carefully at the screen. Then she said, “Huh. Looks like my address book already knows where Holly lives.”

“What?” Jake squinted at at the map. “You know her?”

“No, I’m friends with her housemate. Small world, kid.”

* * *

Puck said he would be home late from visiting his dad Saturday night. Kurt told him that his visits were becoming excessive, but Puck just shrugged and said, “He’s working hard at this. I’m trying to make it worth it.”

On Sunday morning, Finn woke up to a phone call from an unknown number. It wasn’t that early, but he hadn’t slept well, even after climbing into bed with Kurt in the middle of the night.

Kurt rolled over and squinted at him when he answered the phone. The light from his screen was the brightest thing in the room. Kurt liked his room dark when he slept, which might have stemmed from having his bedroom in the basement all those years.

“Hello?” Finn asked.

“Could have let it go to voice mail,” Kurt grumbled, pulling the pillow closer to his ear. Finn didn’t think he’d slept all that well, either.

 _“Finn?”_ asked a tentative voice.

Finn sat up, resisting the urge to pull the sheets around to cover himself.

“Ms. Pillsbury, hey. Are you — is something wrong?”

_“No crises, Finn, and I’m very sorry to bother you on a weekend, but… something’s come up, and Carl and I thought you might want to know. It’s about Blaine.”_

“Blaine!” That got Kurt to sit up too. He watched Finn’s face anxiously as he spoke on the phone. “What is it? Is he okay?”

_“We wanted to ask you the same thing. Would you be willing to come by Carl’s house this morning? I would be happy to make breakfast.”_

Finn felt a sense of unbalance, remembering the mornings he’d woken up at Carl’s house. Each time, Angela had been there the next morning to scramble eggs and set out the morning paper. To have Ms. Pillsbury there to do the same thing would be beyond weird. But — okay, he could try to be polite. It was definitely a hundred times better than _Mark_ being there to do that.

“Sure, I can come over,” he said. To Kurt, who was looking more worried by the moment, he whispered, “She said it’s not a crisis. They just want to talk.”

_“Excellent. Thank you, Finn. Just come over when you can. We’ll be here.”_

Finn slid his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, stretching. “I’m going over to Carl’s house.” At Kurt’s look, he added, “Yeah, I know, but she said it was about Blaine. I’m not sure what to expect.”

“I’m going to check on Noah,” Kurt said. His pajama top was, incredibly, still neatly buttoned. Finn could feel his own hair was all over the place and his boxers were hanging down around his butt. He had no idea how Kurt could get _out_ of bed in such a state of tidiness.

But he was back less than a minute later, standing in the bathroom door with a frown while Finn brushed his teeth.

“Ut’s ong?” Finn asked around his toothbrush.

“He’s gone. His bed’s made. Did he come home last night? I was already in bed.”

Finn spit in the sink. “I’m not sure.” Even as he spoke, Kurt was already getting his phone from the nightstand and texting Puck. “You know he won’t answer.”

“He will if I order him to,” Kurt muttered. Sure enough, by the time Kurt had his checked pants on, there was already a reply to Kurt’s demand.

_Sorry I didnt call, I crashed on Shelbys couch. imma stay here today and come home tonight._

“He’s been gone so much.” Kurt looked sour, his thumbs jabbing a reply. “But I won’t tell him he can’t stay at Shelby’s. He shouldn’t have to drive to and from Akron twice in one day.”

It was strange not to have Puck there for Sunday breakfast. It had become a kind of family ritual. Once RENT had finished, they’d also resumed Friday dinner and games, at least on nights without football games.

Finn thought about another ritual of theirs as he drove over to Carl’s: the one where he and Kurt and Puck sat in a circle and put their heads together, their arms around one another, and just breathed each other in. They hadn’t done that in a long time, not since before they’d moved into the new house. He promised himself he’d make sure they did that again soon.

He parked down the street and walked the two blocks to Carl’s side entrance. The door was partway open, and as he approached, Ms. Pillsbury greeted him there and ushered him in without any delay.

“I heard you won the football game,” she said. “You and Artie. Quite a team.”

“He’s an awesome battering ram,” he agreed. “It was like it was meant to be.”

“Well, I’m glad Six — Coach Beiste let you rejoin the team, and invited Artie, too.” Ms. Pillsbury looked over her shoulder to Carl standing in the doorway, watching the two of them solemnly. “Finn, Carl and I went down to Java the Hut this weekend, and Blaine was there performing. We need to tell you what we saw.”

Finn nodded, taking a seat at the counter in the kitchen while Ms. P served him a plate of egg casserole and potatoes. It was telling that she had leapt past the small talk so quickly. Finn felt a twisting in his gut. “Can I tell you first what happened with his dad? I don’t know how clear that was the other night. I was kind of mixed up.”

Carl and Ms. Pillsbury looked at one another, then nodded. Finn took them quickly through the story of being found in the house with Blaine when his father had arrived home unexpectedly, and his father’s unequivocal reaction.

“He basically cut him off from all contact with us,” he said. It was just as hard to tell it the fifth time as it had been the first. Carl listened with a grave face; Ms. Pillsbury’s was suffused with sympathy. “Even Kurt can’t get through to him, even though his dad doesn’t know he’s one of the boyfriends, because he took away his cell phone. Jeff — that’s his roommate — I was going to have Jeff get him a disposable phone, but Jeff said he’s not being himself. He doesn’t think he’d even talk to me.”

“All right. That does fill in another piece of the puzzle.” Carl took a distracted sip of coffee. “Yesterday, Blaine was signed up to sing as usual, naming himself as Patrick on the sign-in sheet. He called us Derek and Jane when he saw us. His singing was just as it always was, Finn. But afterward, when we tried to engage him in conversation… he didn’t. He wasn’t responding to any of our comments about you, or mentions of your situation.”

“Finn,” Ms. Pillsbury said softly, “there was no recognition there. If I didn’t know better, I would have said we were strangers. He was polite, but that was all.”

Finn nodded slowly. “When Jeff talked to him about Kurt visiting, Jeff said he… he laughed, and said _I don’t have a boyfriend._ Like it was a joke, and he was perfect, that everything was perfect. I thought it might be confusion, or something, but now… I don’t know.” He stifled a noise of anguish. “I can’t _see_ him. Maybe Jeff could send me some video of him so I can see the way he’s being. Then I’d know what needed to be done, anyway, even if couldn’t do it.”

“It wasn’t easy to watch. He’s not being himself.” Carl wasn’t reaching for Finn or touching him in any way, but his concern blanketed Finn like insulation, making the awfulness of what they were describing seem a little less upsetting. “I’m glad there’s some kind of reason, anyway. That’s somewhat reassuring.”

Finn ate Ms. Pillsbury’s breakfast, which was delicious, while Carl finished his coffee. Ms. Pillsbury cleared the dishes away as he finished them, waiting by his elbow for him to be done. It was more distracting than the way Puck did it, which was to pick up the stacks of empties just moments before replacing them with new food on clean dishes, or the way Sarah did it, which was to sneak them away from under guests’ elbows before they realized she’d even been there.

“Emma,” Carl said at one point when she was in the middle of scouring the casserole dish. It took her fewer than five seconds to dry her hands and clasp them in front of herself. Carl inclined his head. “Would you please go upstairs?”

It wasn’t exactly an order, but watching Ms. Pillsbury obey so promptly brought an enormous lump to Finn’s throat. He had to go to the sink and refill his water glass and drink the whole thing to keep from crying. It was a stupid thing to get sentimental about. Who cared what Ms. Pillsbury was doing for Carl? He hated doing the dishes anyway.

“You’re worried about your boy,” Carl said softly.

He nodded without turning around. “Yeah. Of course. But he’s not alone, he’s got Jeff. And we’ll figure this thing out, and then Kurt can go take care of him.” His throat constricted again on the last words.

“Does he have a good doctor?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard him talk about a doctor.” He turned around reluctantly. Carl was still sitting across the kitchen. He realized he’d been half-hoping Carl would come up behind him and put his arms around him. _More than half,_ he told himself.

“I think Blaine might need one. I’m not a psychiatrist, but I see enough clients dealing with their own forms of mental illness to recognize signs. You may not be able to help here, but… I wanted you to be aware.”

“You think Blaine is sick?” Finn’s memories went immediately to Puck’s mother in her hospital bed, her face drawn and worried. He gripped the counter behind himself.

“I think it’s possible his coping skills might not be up to the challenge of being away from the three of you. He’s a very bright boy. If it comes to that, Emma and I can offer referrals to doctors in his area, but again, you may not have any say.” Carl leaned forward on his elbows. “Finn…”

“I — was thinking about something,” Finn interrupted. He paused, watching Carl’s face, and went on after he nodded. “About… what happened with us the other day. And what we did this summer.” He waited for Carl’s slow nod. “I know I made this decision not to… for us not to. And I’ve been feeling guilty because I still want to.” He blew out a breath. “I… _really_ , really want to.”

“Finn,” Carl said again, but Finn pressed on.

“I realized I can’t change the way I feel. I’m just going to, you know. Want you like that, kind of all the time. But I can control my actions.” He was about to open his mouth and say _And I’m not sure I want to do that, either,_ when Carl spoke up quietly.

“I asked Emma to marry me.”

Finn paused with his mouth open, trying to process that quickly enough to say something that wasn’t _No, you can’t._ He shut his mouth on the reaction.

“She hasn’t responded yet. I told her to take some time to think about it. But I wanted you to know, especially considering all of this, what’s happening with Blaine. You might need support more than ever, and I wanted you to know it was still available, Finn. No matter what.”

Finn looked at him. “She’s your slave?”

“Yes,” said Carl.

“And you’re not having sex?”

“No. Nothing’s changed. That’s not what she wants from me.”

“Then why —?”

Carl’s face seemed resigned. “She wants children. We both do, Finn.”

“But not like _this!”_ Finn struggled to keep a handle on the volume of his voice, but he was quickly losing control. “You don’t have kids with somebody you’re not in love with.”

He smiled curiously. “That’s a very simplistic view of things, considering Puck’s situation.”

“That’s different! You have a choice.”

“That’s right,” said Carl firmly. “I do. We’re making it. Don’t misunderstand me, Finn, I’m not asking for your permission. This is our decision.”

Finn shook his head. “I can’t — I can’t deal with this. I’m going.”

Carl didn’t look surprised as he watched Finn head out the door. “You can call me if you need anything.”

Finn fumed the whole way home, but when he got back to the house, the first thing he did was to find Kurt. He was upstairs in his room, typing on his computer, but he put it aside immediately when he saw Finn’s face.

“Oh,” Kurt said unhappily, and he opened his arms.

Finn cried for a long time. It was apparently loud enough to alert his mom that something was wrong, even all the way across the expanse and around the corners of the house. She appeared in the doorway within minutes, hesitating.

“Need anything?” she asked as Finn sniffed and wiped his nose.

“It’s just stuff with Carl,” he said. “Nothing’s changed.”

His mom nodded. She looked as worried as Kurt. “Burt’s at the garage. I’m heading out for a while. Did Puck take Beth back to Shelby’s?”

“He said he’d be home tonight. He can’t see Blaine, so his trip will be a little shorter.”

When his mom had gone, Kurt turned inquiring eyes on Finn, still in his arms.

“Carl’s going to marry Ms. Pillsbury,” Finn said.

“Oh.” Kurt blinked, taking this in. “And you… don’t want him to.”

“No,” Finn said emphatically.

Kurt hugged him again, encouraging Finn to rest his head on Kurt’s shoulder. Finn sighed and tried to relax.

“I don’t want to marry him.”

“I know,” said Kurt.

“I don’t know why I’m so upset.”

“I know.”

Finn scrubbed his eyes over Kurt’s shoulder. “This sucks.”

“I know.”

“I love you, Kurt.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’d not-propose again to you if you need that.”

He felt Kurt’s smile against his neck. “No, I’m okay. I’m wearing your anklet.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

“I love it, Finn. You can buy me diamonds any time.”

He sat back and took Kurt’s hands, looking into his face. “I think the next time I buy you diamonds, I really will be proposing.”

Kurt looked up at him, his eyes glistening, and smiled breathlessly. “That’s… yeah. Okay.”

“I just don’t want to do that for the wrong reasons. It shouldn’t be because I’m desperate not to lose another person.”

“I know.” He touched Finn’s chest, resting it over his tattoo. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not really worried,” said Finn, and he was surprised to realize it was true. “I’m just grateful.”


	15. Grilled Cheesus, Part 2

Puck looked more than weary when he rolled into Akron around ten. Shelby ushered him in, taking his guitar case and watching while he kicked off his boots.

“She’s due for a feeding in about an hour,” she said. “If you think you want to stay up for it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be sleeping.” He rubbed his face up and down, as though he were scrubbing it clean of whatever the day had left there. Then he threw himself in the chair in the corner, letting his head loll back to stare at the ceiling, and sighed. “Fuuuuuck.”

“You look exhausted.”

“It’s not even that. I think I’m sleeping more than usual.” He rolled his neck and stretched his toes out. “I’m not having any dreams. None that I remember, anyway. I’m not dreaming about anybody.”

Shelby wasn’t so insensitive to ask him to clarify. She knew he meant _I’m not dreaming about Blaine._ She picked up her glass of wine and drank the last of it, then carried the empty glass into the kitchen. “Do you need to call anybody before it gets too late?”

“Adam’s performing tonight.”

“Since when does that mean you’re not supposed to call him?”

Shelby didn’t get the dynamic that seemed to appeal so much to her ex-husband and this whole group of boys, but after spending a couple weeks at Tessera last spring with Puck and watching how he was with Adam, she knew what Puck was expected to do. He didn’t even glare at her. He just stared out into space.

“I’ll send Kurt a text before bed.”

“What about Finn?”

Puck didn’t answer. This wasn’t good. Shelby came back out of the kitchen and crouched down in front of Puck so that her eyes were level with his. She watched him avoiding her gaze.

“How was it with your dad tonight?”

“It was all right.” He knitted his brow. “The religious stuff is actually pretty good. I mean, I like following rules when they’re not completely stupid.”

“You’re telling me your dad’s group is giving you religious rules that _aren’t_ completely stupid?”

He gave her a tired middle finger. “I know you don’t care about that stuff.”

“What, you want me to tell you it’s fine as long as it feels good? That’s not actually how I feel about religion. I think some of it is pretty awful.” He still wasn’t looking at her. “But, hey, it’s your life. So if following the rules feels good, what’s the problem?”

“Who says there’s a problem?” he said, but even he knew he wasn’t being convincing. He sat up with a sigh. “Kurt doesn’t like it either.”

“And Finn?”

“He said it’s okay. I think he was actually praying the other night, but I don’t know for what.” He snorted. “Probably that Rachel would let him touch her boobs.”

“I really don’t need to hear about that,” Shelby said, making a face. Puck chuckled.

“I’m just kidding. I don’t think they’re doing any of that. Rachel’s a total prude. She wouldn’t even let _me_ touch her —“

“Enough,” she moaned. He laughed. It was a welcome sound, but she refrained from smiling back. She put a hand on his leg. “Look, you know you can always come here and see Beth, any time. Especially if you bring your guitar.”

“You want me to play?”

“Just a second, I’m not done. You can’t use this place to avoid your boys.”

Puck’s eyes slipped closed. He shrugged. “We’re all too busy worrying about — other things.”

The way his eyes went unfocused made her draw closer. There wasn’t really enough room on the chair for both of them, but she sat on the arm and waited for him to say more. He didn’t.

“Like what?” she prompted.

“Shelby, I’m not going to talk about him,” Puck said. He sounded so sad, it made her heart twist. “Either he _actually_ doesn’t remember me, which sucks, or he’s pretending hard enough not to remember me that he won’t let me get in close, which sucks more. Jeff said _don’t come_ when Kurt asked. Whatever we had, it’s going to be on hold for long enough that it might as well be a fucking answering service.”

“So it sucks,” she said. “I get that. But you’ve still got two boys at your house who love you a lot. Three, if you count Adam. You’re going to call him in a minute, by the way.”

“Okay, okay,” he muttered. Then he shook his head. His grimace was threatening to take over his whole face. “No, look, the thing is… I don’t know if I should be doing this at all.”

“Doing what?”

“Being with them. Any of them.”

Shelby stared at him in disbelief. “You’re having this crisis _now?”_

“It’s not a crisis,” he insisted. “I’m trying to think about this like — like a responsible adult.”

“Noah, you’re a _father._ You’re already being as responsible as any seventeen-year-old has a right to be, especially considering you’re doing it almost entirely on your own.” She reached down and clasped his hand. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that what partners are supposed to do? Support you and help you with the things you’re bad at?”

“Not if they’re —“ he said, then paused. He shook his head again. “Never mind. It was stupid.”

“They love you,” she said firmly. “Go with that.”

He nodded, though he still looked unhappy, and dug his phone out of his pocket. It wasn’t the face of a bratty child; Shelby had seen that expression on him before. This was more considered, more pensive. It didn’t suit him. She gave him a little privacy while she returned to the kitchen for filtered water to make up Beth’s formula.

“Hey,” he said into the phone. “It’s me. I know it’s thirteen hours difference between here and Singapore, and you said you’d be in rehearsals all day before the concert, but… I’m just checking in. I’m at Shelby’s.” He paused, then added awkwardly, “I, uh. Love you, and… yeah. Hope the concert is good.” He hung up.

“Do you have any —“ she asked, but he cut her off.

“Did it yesterday. Homework is even more stupid than it was last year. I hate bullshit high school.”

“You like Glee club.”

“I guess.” He snapped open the latches on his guitar case. The sounds of quiet tuning filled the apartment. “It’s good, but there’s way too much stupid drama and not enough having fun.”

“Trust me, I know what you mean.” She dumped a couple of scoops of formula into the water and shook it. “My students are always bringing their own lives into rehearsal. I tell them to leave their egos at the door, to take off all the stuff that’s weighing them down, and focus on the discipline of perfecting the routine.”

“Yeah, that’s not how Mr. Schue works. Not a whole lot of discipline happening in Glee.” He strummed a quiet chord progression. “I’ve been spending a bunch of time with my dad’s men’s group, and at his synagogue? It’s a lot of the same stuff, over and over. We say the same words, the same way. It feels… I don’t know. Good, I think.”

“I guess that’s what ritual is all about. Making patterns.”

He shrugged. “It keeps my brain quiet, anyway.” The pattern of his fingers was like perfect clockwork as he began to sing softly:

<https://youtu.be/MrtLSVxWFVo>

_When the calls and conversations  
_ _Accidents and accusations  
_ _Messages and misperceptions  
_ _Paralyze my mind  
_ _Buses, cars, and airplanes leaving  
_ _Burning fumes of gasoline  
_ _And everyone is running  
_ _And I come to find a refuge in the  
_ _Easy silence that you make for me  
_ _It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me  
_ _And the peaceful quiet you create for me  
_ _And the way you keep the world at bay for me  
_ _The way you keep the world at bay_

Shelby listened with a mixture of pride and concern while Puck sang. His voice was gentle and tuneful, and he played the guitar with the same skill as always, but she could tell he was taking no pleasure in it. The contentedness she’d seen in him all summer had been disrupted by Blaine’s absence. It didn’t keep her from singing along on the chorus, though, and he smiled at her harmonies.

When he finished the song, he set down his guitar and held out a hand for the baby bottle she was holding. “I can do that?”

Shelby handed it to him, and together they went into Beth’s room. Beth stirred groggily when Puck lifted her out of the crib, rooting for the bottle when he brushed the nipple against her cheek. She usually only half-woke for the eleven-o’clock feeding. If they were lucky, she wouldn’t wake again until after six. Puck watched her take the bottle soberly.

“I don’t know how long it’ll be before he gets to see her again,” he said.

She knew he wasn’t talking about Adam. “His dad can’t keep him off social media forever. You’ll get back in touch with him soon.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t exactly sound confident. “His roommate said he’s not sure how he’s really doing. I know Jeff thinks he’s just pretending not to know us, but maybe there’s something else going on. It’s like, he’s…”

When he hesitated, she moved in closer. “What is it, Noah?”

Puck’s head dropped a little, his chin quivering. “It reminds me of how it was with my Ma. When she was sick. Like, in the head.”

She hugged them both, letting him rest his head on her shoulder as Beth drank. “That sounds scary.”

“Yeah,” he admitted in a whisper.

“Maybe you’re thinking it would be better if you didn’t have to worry about Blaine.”

“No, no,” he said immediately. “But… maybe it would be better if he didn’t have to worry about me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” said Puck, “if he didn’t think I was… an option, he could stop pretending not to care. And then he could get better.”

Beth had stopped sucking, her slack lips indicating she really was asleep. He skillfully withdrew the nipple and put her to his shoulder to burp her in one smooth motion.

“Noah…” she began slowly.

“It’s okay,” he said. “He’s got people watching him. I don’t think it’s gonna be a problem.”

Beth gave a few feeble protests as he set her back down, but he stayed and patted her and murmured to her until she settled again. Then they shut the door quietly, pausing in the dark of the hallway for a moment. His head was bowed with the weight of everything he was struggling with.

“I can make up the couch for you,” she offered.

It seemed so inadequate compared to what he really needed, but he nodded, and she got the sheets out from the linen closet while he returned to the lighted family room and sat in the chair again, picking up his guitar.

The song he sang this time made Shelby stiffen and stop in the middle of putting a pillowcase on the extra pillow.

<https://youtu.be/7E8KeBMSxBs?t=1m>

_Goodnight, my angel  
_ _Time to close your eyes  
_ _And save these questions for another day  
_ _I think I know what you've been asking me  
_ _I think you know what I've been trying to say  
_ _I promised I would never leave you  
_ _And you should always know  
_ _Wherever you may go  
_ _No matter where you are  
_ _I never will be far away_

“Where’d you learn that?” she asked, her heart thudding painfully inside her rib cage.

“It’s Billy Joel,” he replied, as if that was all that was needed for the answer. She swallowed the hurt.

“Carl used to play that for Rachel when she was a baby.”

Puck stared up at her, his eyes wide. “Oh. Uh — yeah, maybe I’ve heard him sing it once or twice? Shit. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s all right. There are just… a few songs that never lose their meaning, you know? No matter how much time passes, there will always be those associations.” She laughed softly. “Like Carl will always be the Pirate King from _The Pirates of Penzance.”_

“Like Finn and that Pretenders song,” Puck said, nodding. At her quizzical look, he sang:

_Oh, why you look so sad?  
_ _Tears are in your eyes  
_ _Come on and come to me now_

_Don't be ashamed to cry  
_ _Let me see you through  
_ _'cause I've seen the dark side too_

_When the night falls on you  
_ _You don't know what to do  
_ _Nothing you confess  
_ _Could make me love you less_

_I'll stand by you_

Each line appeared to be a struggle to get out, and he stopped singing in the middle of the first chorus.

“Finn sang it to me when he thought only Kurt was listening,” he said. “It made Kurt cry. He was the one who was hurting most, and he totally didn’t need to be. He didn’t realize he was already part of it, too.”

She nodded. “Noah… that’s how it is with Blaine. I don’t think he has an option not to care. You’re part of this.”

He nodded, staring at the floor. “Yeah. But I don’t know if I should be.”

Shelby shook her head briskly. If she didn’t stop them both from drowning in their own regrets, it was going to be impossible to sleep. “Come on. Play something a little more upbeat, would you? You know any more Billy Joel?”

He gave her a _you’re-kidding_ look with a twisted smile. “Well, he’s got a bunch about using drugs… oh, and there’s at least two about suicide…”

She reached over and gave him a poke. “How about that one about seducing the good Catholic girl? Maybe you know something about that.”

Now his look was a little bit astonished and a little bit impressed. “That’s, like, got to be the most offensive, inappropriate song ever for this moment. Seriously.”

“I know,” she said, giggling uncontrollably. “Come on, sing.”

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMaQY7fmIWA>

_Well, they showed you a statue, told you to pray  
_ _They built you a temple and locked you away  
_ _Aw, but they never told you the price that you pay  
_ _For things that you might have done  
_ _Only the good die young_

* * *

As soon as Kurt left the garage, Burt went into the break room in the back to eat the “breakfast” he’d brought for him. The egg-white wrap on a sprouted tortilla had to be Kurt’s doing, because Puck never would have made anything like that for him. While he ate, he called Carole.

“Did you talk to Puck before school?” he asked. The green drink wasn’t too bad, but he threw the half a grapefruit in the wastebasket.

_“He stayed over Sunday night and went right to school from Shelby’s this morning. Why?”_

“Kurt’s trying to convince me he needs to go to this Sing-Along Sound of Music thing on Friday instead of being home. Something’s going on.”

_“‘Something’ is pretty vague, Burt.”_

“I mean everybody’s avoiding each other.” He picked at the tortilla, grimacing. “Puck’s been gone more nights than not.”

_“Well, they are teenagers.”_

“Yeah, that’s what Kurt said, but I don’t buy it. They need a little time to focus on what they have here, at home.”

 _“Yeah.”_ He heard her sigh. “ _That’s what I told Finn, too.”_

“And Puck. I don’t like him spending all this time with his dad. He’s gonna get hurt again.”

_“He’s sad about Blaine. Can you blame him?”_

“No, but all this church business. Synagogue, whatever. It’s not…”

_“Not what you would choose for him?”_

He huffed out a frustrated sigh and tossed the tortilla on the table. “Yeah, forgive me if I’m not laughing. Okay, yes, I’d feel a lot better if he wasn’t praying. He’s even got Finn doing it.”

_“Along with eighty percent of the rest of the country. You’re afraid he might corrupt Kurt?”_

“No!” He scowled at the tortilla. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

She sounded wryly amused. _“I think you can trust your own son to have strong enough convictions to withstand even Noah Puckerman’s influence. Now can you please tell Kurt he gets to go to the Sing-Along Sound of Music if he wants to? I like game night as much as the next person, but this family doesn’t need gimmicks to spend time together.”_

Burt sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I just — he’s growing up.”

_“Burt, I think they hit that threshold when they started dating last year. Let’s try not to put too much value in being young. I’d rather they get a head start on being adults.”_

“You’re far too rational for a Monday morning.”

_“That’s what they pay administrators for, honey. Now are you going to tell Puck he can’t see his dad? Because you could have a valid point, there.”_

“No.” He stared at the sad remains of his breakfast. “I’m not going to tell him that. But if he’s going to be gone in the morning a lot, I might ask him to make some of that baked French toast stuff in advance.”

* * *

Kurt all but dragged Puck out of the choir room and down the hall after he was done singing  _Only the Good Die Young_ . There was a string of  _oooooohs_ from the crowd in the hallway that followed them.

“You got some ‘splainin’ to do, Ricky!” crowed Azimio after them.

Kurt ignored him and drew Puck up against his locker. If Finn hadn’t already left school to go to Rachel’s, he’d be doing the same thing to him, no matter _what_ they were trying to hide about their relationship.

“What was _that_ all about?” demanded Kurt.

Puck was _laughing,_ of all things. “Kurt, calm down, it was just a joke. Shelby asked me if I knew any Billy Joel, and I said of course I did, and she said what about the one about seducing the —“

“I am talking about _Finn,”_ he hissed.“Did you put him up to saying that? All that stuff about Jesus?”

“What?” Puck shook his head. “Kurt, are you serious? Since when do I ever have any say about what Finn does?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You’ve been encouraging him to pray with you.”

“Maybe?” He wasn’t smiling anymore. “So what if I have? Kurt, I know you don’t like it that I’m doing that…”

“You’re damn right I don’t like it!” His voice was rising. “Jesus isn’t going to fix what’s wrong with Blaine, Noah.”

Puck looked like he would have taken a step back if Kurt hadn’t had him pressed against the lockers. He gritted his teeth. “You think _you_ got an answer to the mysteries of the universe? Huh?”

“I think science is a lot more likely to be right than religion,” he shouted. “What makes you think you’re going to get anything meaningful out of reading some book written more than eight thousand years ago?”

“Maybe because it’s the only thing giving me peace right now!” Puck shouted back. “Fuck knows _you’re_ not giving me anything.”

Kurt flinched, feeling the words like a slap. Puck sighed.

“Look, I — I’m sorry, that was —“

Kurt made a quick gesture with his hand, and Puck stopped talking. He stared at Puck, trying to reign in the hurt and shame he felt.

“You think you’re going to get more out of religion than out of this relationship?”

Puck put his hands flat on the locker behind him to steady himself.A bead of sweat appeared at his temple and traced the curve of his jaw. “I didn’t think you were asking me to choose between them.”

“I’m not!” Kurt suddenly realized just how many people were taking note of their conversation as they passed them in the hallway. He dropped his voice. “I’m not. Noah, really. I just — I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty clear.” He took a few deep breaths and looked at his boots. “I don’t understand either,” he added. “That’s kind of the whole point. I’m looking for answers.”

“Yes, Noah, but it’s _where_ you’re looking that I don’t understand.” Kurt looked at him, pleading. “Can we go home and talk about this?”

“I don’t think it’s a thing you can get by talking.”

Kurt didn’t know if he’d meant it as an innuendo, but the way the words hit him made him go suddenly still and fix Puck with his gaze. It didn’t matter that they were right there in the hallway. Puck took a gulping breath and quivered, his eyes wide.

“Then let’s go home,” said Kurt, “and not talk.”

“Yes sir,” he whispered.

Whatever uncertainty Puck had been feeling had apparently dropped away the moment Kurt had shifted his tone of Voice. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that use of power. As he led a docile Puck to the parking spot he always chose for the Navigator, he turned the conflict over and over inside.

“The Impala’s over there,” said Puck, gesturing across the parking lot.

“Just a minute,” Kurt said. He reached out and took Puck’s hand. “Sweetheart… I need you to hear this.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not going to ask you to choose. Not between me and religion, or me and anyone or anything else. You’re exactly who you are, and that’s just how I want you. All right?”

Puck licked his lips, his cheeks flushed. “Yes, sir.”

It was a compelling answer, but Kurt had to make sure he understood. “I’m not ordering you. I’m asking. Will you please come home with me and let me take care of you?”

His eyes dropped closed. Kurt saw the layers of pain cross his face as he wrestled with the question.

“Is that too hard to decide right now?”

Puck nodded, short and quick.

“Can you trust me that I know what you need?”

“I don’t know,” Puck said. His voice was almost inaudible.

That hurt more than the accusation Puck had made a few minutes ago. Kurt took a moment to breathe, then went on, more gently. “Can I cuff you to the bed and spank you, Noah?”

He let out a whine, gripping Kurt’s hand hard. “I really want that.”

“And?” he prompted.

“And I don’t know if what I _want_ is the right thing. The right thing for me.”

Kurt stared at him, feeling at a loss. At last he reached over and pulled Puck into a hug, trying to ignore their mutual arousal. He kept his voice calm and certain.

“I’m not going to make you do anything you’re unsure about. Not right now. But I think you need some things, and… I’m not sure you’re going to be thinking very rationally if you’re sitting next to me in the car.”

Puck let out a shaky laugh. “Probably not. You’re way too hot when you’re in charge.”

“Would you let Finn do that for you?”

He shook his head, staring at the ground. Sudden comprehension dawned.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding being home?”

Puck suddenly began to cry. Kurt held him tighter, resisting the urge to kiss him.

“I’m sorry,” he said between gasps, “I didn’t want… to tell you.”

“That you were having doubts about this, what we’re doing? About our relationship?” Kurt tasted the words on numb lips. He couldn’t even plead _don’t take away one more person from me,_ because there was nobody listening, after all. He was going to have to make his own good fortune. He grasped Puck by the shoulders and looked at him in the face. “Noah, is that group you’ve been going to telling you that you shouldn’t be with me?”

He tried to squirm away from Kurt’s grip, but Kurt held him fast.

“Tell me!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be!” Puck burst out. “Maybe this isn’t _right_ , Kurt.”

“Who says what’s right?” Kurt pressed.

Puck looked suddenly terrified, and Kurt gathered him up again, holding him as close as he could.

“I don’t know,” Puck muttered against his neck, “I don’t… I don’t know.”

Then his lips were on Kurt’s jaw, and the corner of his mouth, and with another whine he pressed himself up against Kurt, clutching at his hips for a better grip.

Kurt let him rut for a few seconds before putting a little space between them, holding both his hands. Now that he knew the stakes, he wasn’t going to let Puck make a potentially harmful choice.

“I love you,” he said, panting a little, “and god, do I want you, in so many ways. But you’re going to have to work this out. Noah, this is something _you_ are going to have to decide. If I’m not going to stand in the way of your religious beliefs, whatever they happen to be, I can’t be the one to tell you what’s right.”

He didn’t let go of Puck’s hands. The last thing he wanted was for Puck to think he was telling him to leave. After several long, tense moments, Puck’s breathing slowed. He closed his eyes and squeezed Kurt’s hands.

“I love you too,” he said. He sounded defeated. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am too, sweetheart.”

That made Puck cry again, but after a few more moments, he dropped Kurt’s hands and nodded.

“I’m going to head out.”

“Are you going to Akron?” He almost didn’t want to know, but Puck just shrugged.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll text you when I know where I’ll be.”

He tried to swallow the irrational panic that rose in his throat like bile. “Noah, tell me you’re not running away.”

“No,” he said. “Not like I did. I won’t.”

“Tell me you’re not going to run away,” he said again, louder.

“I’m not going to run away.”

Kurt took a step after him, but Puck was already walking toward his car. “Are you going to see Blaine?”

“I’ll call you,” Puck said over his shoulder.

He couldn’t quite make it into his front seat before he fell apart, sobbing onto the steering wheel as he tried to dig out his handkerchief. He had no idea how to deal with this, or even who to ask. He felt like something fundamental had been robbed of him.

 _Noah loves me,_ he thought, struggling to hold on to that, in the face of everything else that was going on. _He’s confused, but that doesn’t change the facts. He loves me._


	16. Grilled Cheesus, part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t know the episode, you might want to be aware that someone has a medical crisis.
> 
> Quoting from 2x03 has been shifted to new speakers and new listeners. Warning for continued angst (it pretty much continues for the rest of the story).

 

Neither of Rachel’s dads were home when they arrived. Finn parked his Ford in the driveway and came around to the other side to open Rachel’s door, letting her out.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he said. The deja vu hit him: being at Blaine’s house and asking the same question before going in. It made him shiver.

“Of course,” she said calmly. “My dads trust me. They know I won’t do anything… inappropriate, with a boy.” She smiled. “Not even you, Finn.”

He smiled back and followed her into the house. She brought him into the kitchen and went right to the enormous water in the corner, filling up her cup and drinking the whole thing before filling it up again.

“How are you not peeing all the time?” he asked curiously. She laughed.

“I am, if you hadn’t noticed. Hydration is very important.” She went to the freezer and opened it. “I have those kulfi bars you like so much.”

He happily took one from her, unwrapping it. It was hard to find anything in Rachel’s kitchen that measured up to the things Puck made, especially considering she was vegan. “Thanks. You don’t have to buy things just for me.”

“I like to.” She watched him eat with a yearning expression that he didn’t think was about the food. “How are things? With… Blaine?”

He shook his head. “Same. I’m trying to stay out of it and let his roommate handle things, but I don’t think he’s doing very well. It’s really getting to Puck.”

“It’s strange to think about Noah being worried about anybody. He’s always seemed so _laissez-faire._ ”

Finn had no idea what that meant, but he just shook his head again, making short work of the yogurt popsicle. “No way. I think he cares too much, and sometimes it’s better just to pretend not to. He doesn’t do that so much anymore, but… I don’t know. Things are just really hard right now.”

“I’m sorry.” She moved in close, taking the stick and wrapper from his ice cream bar out of his hand and setting them on the counter. Her hands slid around his middle, and she sighed as she settled against his chest.

Holding her felt strange, but not at all bad. Her hair smelled lovely, not like Quinn’s but soft like that, and her skin was magical. He tried not to be too grabby with the touching, remembering how she needed to go slowly. Eventually she reached for his face, drawing him down to kiss her.

“I know things are complicated for you, but I need to talk to you about something important.” She took his hand. “Would you come up to my room?”

This was especially weird. He nodded, walking with her up the curved staircase to her room at the end of the hall. It was the same as always, full of neatly arranged memorabilia.

“Please.” She indicated her four-poster bed. “Sit.”

He did so, looking up at her in confusion. His phone fell out of his pocket onto the floor, and Rachel picked it up and set it on the nightstand.

“Finn,” she said, “let’s discuss your newfound love for Jesus and how it's affecting me. I want this relationship to go the distance, but I need to know that when I'm twenty-five and I've won a bunch of Tonys, and I'm ready to have intercourse and babies, that those babies will be raised in a certain way.”

He goggled at her. There were too many questions running through his head to be able to say them all, starting with _you want to have babies with me_ , but he just blurted, “You don't think you're gonna have sex till you're twenty-five?”

“I want my children to be raised in the Jewish faith,” she said firmly.

He nodded. “Sure. Of course.” It occurred to him that Beth was Jewish, kind of, since Shelby was. _It’s not like our kids would lack for role models._ He felt an overwhelming rush of dizziness at the prospect. “You want me to… be the father of your children?”

“Certainly. Someday. A long time from now.”

He couldn’t address the questions about how she could possibly know what she would want then, or the ridiculously complicated geometry of that relationship compared to all the rest of the ones he currently had. All he could do was smile stupidly at her. “Wow.”

She smiled back. “Let's lay down on the bed.”

“Okay.”

This was quickly escalating into something he hadn’t expected. Her tiny body felt nothing like Blaine’s, but the size difference was almost the same, and her little moans and breathy sounds were just as appealing as if Kurt had made them. Mostly, though, it was the sudden concept of having children with her.

 _We could make a baby,_ he thought, and the idea was an unexpectedly huge turn-on. He tried not to rub his dick on her thigh, although if he’d been with anybody else that would have been happening already.

“Finn,” she whispered, “I’d like to give you something in exchange for what you gave me.”

She took his hand and slid it up along her body, gathering both her wrists together into the circle of his fingers. He found himself staring down at her, realizing with a shock that he was now holding her pinned with her hands above her head.

“I thought you said we weren’t going to control each other?” he asked.

“Maybe a little?”

It wasn’t a tease; she didn’t do that flirty thing. But he shook his head, letting her hands go.

“Rachel, I don’t think you understand. It’s not a game. You can’t just… decide to do that because you want to.”

“But _you_ want to.” She looked so earnest. “I want you to have it.”

“That’s really nice, but… it has to be mutual. Otherwise it’s kind of fake.” He touched her face, watching her close her eyes in pleasure. “I don’t want you to do stuff unless _you_ want it.”

She thought about that. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “Sometimes it sounds exciting. Mostly, though, I still don’t really understand.”

He thought about Puck talking about the lessons he’d gotten last summer from his girlfriends, about how to make sex awesome for a girl. “I think… that might mean you should wait until you do. Understand, I mean. Like, you know what _you_ like, right?”

Her cheeks, which until now had been their ordinary color, turned pink. She looked flustered. “What do you mean?”

“You know what makes you hot. What gets you off.” He peered at her face. “Or maybe you don’t?”

“I do,” she said quickly. “I’ve just never told anybody about it before. That’s kind of private.”

He had to laugh. “Rach, aren’t we kind of doing private things? This is how Kurt and I started, back when we were becoming friends. We talked about what we liked, and it… led to other things.”

She sighed. “Do we have to talk about _Kurt_ when we’re alone together?”

“No. Of course not. This can just be about us.”

They kissed a little more, but the moment was gone. Eventually he sat up, and she followed suit, watching him uncertainly.

“You’re not mad?” she asked. “That I want to stop?”

“Nah. I’m not in any hurry.” He smiled at her grateful expression.

“That’s…” She laughed. “That’s pretty _hot,_ Finn.”

“Awesome,” he said. It had been a while since he’d felt so relaxed. It was almost like being happy. “How about we do some homework?”

* * *

 _Ten minutes until French class,_ Kurt messaged Adam. He was too many countries away for texting to work, but they could still send messages to each other. It was hit or miss whether Adam would be around to receive them when Kurt could send them, but that was okay. He liked collecting Adam’s messages throughout the day and responding to them later.

French was one of Kurt’s favorite classes of junior year so far, even though he had to deal with Azimio in there as his dialogue partner. He appreciated that Madame Bates gave them every chance to actually speak French, even if most of the class mumbled through it all.

 _"Classe, nous allons pratiquer le dialogue."_ Madame Bates made an encouraging gesture. _"Parlez-nous de çe que vous ferez çe week-end."_

Kurt sighed. He wasn’t sure if he could offer anything to Azimio that wasn’t going to be fodder for more insults.

 _"Voulez-vous passer en premier?"_ he asked politely.

"Whatever," Azimio muttered, his lip curling back in distaste. "You tell me about whatever you want. I ain't gonna understand it anyway."

Kurt gave him a wry smile. "Strangely, I'm not surprised," he said in French, watching Azimio's eyes glaze over. “My father’s trying to get me to stay home this weekend, even though apparently I’m the only one who will be. The rest of the world is trying to avoid me and losing sleep over relationships over which they have no control. So I think I’m going to take Sarah and Frances tosing-a-long Sound of Music. And in two hours I will experience more culture and artistry than you will in your entire life."

"Kurt?"

Kurt looked up and saw Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury standing in the doorway. Mr. Schue's eyes were worried. "Can we talk to you outside?"

Ms. Pillsbury spoke quietly to Madame Bates as Mr. Schue escorted him into the hall. "What's going on?" Kurt asked.

"Kurt... there's no easy way to say this. It's your dad. He's had what appears to be a heart attack. The ambulance came to the garage and -"

"What? Wait, he - my dad?" Kurt felt his feet stop, like he'd forgotten how to make them walk. "I don't understand."

Mr. Schue sighed. "The ambulance came to the garage and took him to St. Rita's. We'll take you to the emergency room and wait with you.”

“Oh my god.” The word _god_ meant nothing, it was just an expression, but Kurt heard himself say it, and he wanted to take it back. He grabbed for Mr. Schue’s hands. “Is Carole with him already? What about Noah? Where’s Finn? We have to call Sarah at school.”

“One step at a time, Kurt. You’re the only one who’s legally allowed in to see him. You can call Finn and Puck and everybody else later. Finn’s mom, she’s a nurse, right?”

“She doesn’t work at St. Rita’s.” His head was pounding with the urge to run for his car, but he controlled it. “I think — maybe you should drive.”

“That’s fine, Kurt.” Ms. Pillsbury took his arm and walked him down the hall. All kinds of words were threatening to leap off his tongue as they walked. It seemed a crisis caused a lack of filter. He let them tuck him into the back of Mr. Schue’s rusty sedan.

“Didn’t you buy a new sports car?” he asked. “Like Carl’s.”

Mr. Schue looked at Ms. Pillsbury in the front seat. “I, uh, took it back.”

“I got to drive his car once, on my last birthday. It has incredible pickup.” His voice was trembling, but he figured neither of them were going to mind, because his dad was in the hospital. It seemed that every thought he was having ended with _my dad’s in the hospital._ “Did Toby make you return it?”

Ms. Pillsbury, inexplicably, laughed. Mr. Schue shook his head.

“I haven’t talked to Toby in weeks,” Kurt went on. “Blaine’s not allowed to see us anymore, so the only person who’s driving out there is—“

“What?” Mr Schue looked distressed. “What do you mean, Blaine’s not allowed to see you?”

“His dad.” Kurt fluttered his hand, choking back tears. “I’m sorry, Mr. Schue, it’s too much right now.”

“Of course, Kurt, of course. Don’t worry about it.” He sighed. “I’m sure Toby would love to hear from you, even if you’re not visiting Blaine. He said he really enjoyed giving you and Mike and Brittany dance lessons.”

“Does he know?” Ms. Pillsbury murmured.

“Not now,” Mr. Schue replied in a low voice.

Kurt felt suddenly exhausted by the whole conversation. _But of course not as exhausted as my dad,_ his brain went on blithely, _because my dad’s in the hospital._

“My… mom,” Kurt said. “When she was sick. I spent a lot of afternoons taking car rides like this one.”

“How old were you, Kurt?” Ms. Pillsbury asked.

“She got the initial diagnosis when I was six, but I didn’t really know very much about what was going on at that time. It went on for a couple years. Most of the last six months were in the hospital. I had to repeat third grade.”

He looked down at his buzzing phone, which was inexplicably already in his hand. It was Carole. He put the phone to his ear.

“ _Kurt,”_ she said, her voice full of pain, “ _oh my god, honey, I just heard. I called as quickly as I could. Are you okay? Where are you? Jesus, I’m saying all the stupid things we were taught not to say in nursing school.”_

Kurt couldn’t help but smile. “I’m on my way to the hospital, Carole. We don’t know anything yet.”

_“You’re so calm. How can you be so calm?”_

“I think your son taught me how to do that, actually.”

He heard her sob a little as she laughed. _“You’re such an amazing kid, Kurt. I hope I tell you that enough. I tried calling Finn but it went to voice mail. Do you know where he is?”_

“He should be in Spanish,” Kurt said slowly. “Both him and Noah. Mr. Schue, who has your class?”

“I don’t even know; I didn’t make it there today. Probably Principal Figgins is watching them until they can get a substitute.”

_“Well, I’m on my way, too. I’ll keep trying Finn, and I’ll arrange for Puck to pick up Sarah and bring her as soon as we know more.”_

“I… yes. Okay.” He wasn’t going to get into the details of his conversation with Puck. He’d said he wouldn’t run away, and Kurt was going to trust that that was true. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

They pulled into the emergency parking circle and left the car with the valet. While they waited, he tried Finn himself, but it went to voice mail, too.

They checked in at the counter. The nurse on duty reported that he was in surgery following a heart attack, but that they’d have to wait for more information. Kurt knew what that meant. He waited for an eternity while machines beeped and the television in the waiting room played daytime television too loudly. Eyeing the sign that said _No cell phones beyond this point,_ he sent out a mass text to everyone in Glee while he waited.

_1 text - Kurt Hummel  
_ _2:23 PM: My dad’s in the hospital. He had a heart attack. Mr. Schue is with me. I’ll let you know when I know more but right now, no cell coverage._

Finn still hadn’t responded, but Kurt got a shower of replies from others, including Mercedes, who said she’d tell Puck. She knew Puck well enough to know he didn’t check his phone. For some reason that made Kurt cry when none of the rest of the events of today had.

“Kurt Hummel?” A doctor in blue scrubs emerged from beyond the double doors.

"Where is he?" Kurt blurted, rising from the bench and wrapping his arms around himself. "Is he — dead?"

"No, he's alive," said the doctor, "but I'm sorry, I don't have any other good news."

The flood of relief was short-lived. “I want to see him.” He started forward, but the doctor held him back.

"He hasn't regained consciousness."

"Consciousness?" echoed Mr. Schue. "I thought he had a heart attack."

"Brought on by an arrhythmia, which caused a lack of blood to his brain. That's what made him lose consciousness and is keeping him comatose." The doctor looked as exhausted as Kurt felt.

"I don't understand what you're saying," Kurt said, feeling the panic rise inside him. "When is he going to wake up?"

"I don't know."

"Just - take us to him now, please," said Mr. Schue, and they followed the doctor down the hall to where his dad was waiting.

Every detail of the emergency room — the blue curtains, the constant beeping of the machines, the wheels and tubes and tile floor — brought back an unexpected barrage of memories of his mother. Even the smells were the same, antiseptic and mint and the cloying sweet smell of disease. He couldn’t turn off his brain.

 _I need Adam,_ he thought, and bit back a sob. _But if I call him he’ll probably abandon his tour and come here, because… my dad’s in the hospital._

His dad was still and small on the hospital bed, hooked up to oxygen and an IV drip. He didn’t respond as Kurt drew closer, but it felt better to be close to him anyway.

“I need a minute,” he said. “With Ms. Pillsbury.”

Mr. Schue’s head jerked up, and he looked at Ms. Pillsbury, who appeared to be as startled as he was. “I — I’ll be right outside.”

Ms. Pillsbury moved to stand beside Kurt, looking up at him. He sighed.

“Carole can’t reach Finn,” he said, “and neither can I. Can you please call Carl and have him help with that?”

“Of course,” she said, “but I don’t know… Kurt, Finn was pretty upset when he left the other day.”

“I know. He told me about what Carl and you are planning. Congratulations, by the way.”

She suppressed a nervous laugh. “I haven’t said yes, yet.”

“Yeah, but you will.” He sighed at her expression. “Sorry. I’ve lost my filter.”

“You’re allowed, I think.” She touched his arm. “I’ll go call him now.”

He counted it a mark in the positive column that he hadn’t mentioned anything to Ms. Pillsbury about what Carl was like in bed, or how good he was with the single-tail whip. Those details were all in the past, at least for now, because Finn and Carl weren’t together. _And my dad’s in the hospital._

He gathered up his father’s limp hand and held it as tightly as he dared. “Dad?” he murmured. “Can you hear me? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. I'm holding yours right now. Just squeeze back.”

It was like being in Lima with Blaine in Westerville, he decided. He could send out as much desire and hope that he could manage, and even take action, but as long as there was no response, he had no idea what was really going on. Blaine might as well be in a coma. He took a shuddering breath.

“Come on, Dad. Just squeeze my hand.”

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there — the sounds of the hospital put him in a pretty zen state — until suddenly there was gentle pressure on his shoulder. He turned to see Carole beside him, and Puck and Sarah behind her. He hugged Carole.

“Fuck,” Puck said, staring at Burt. Then he turned right around and ran out of the room.

“He’s always had a weak stomach for stuff like this,” said Sarah. Her eyes were enormous, but she wasn’t going anywhere. “He’s probably puking in the trash can.”

Carole moved to stand on the other side of the bed, inspecting Burt’s IV and chart with a practiced eye. “Do you want to go check on him, Kurt?”

He didn’t really; when people were sick, he felt sick too. But he knew that was just another way of avoiding the responsibility of the situation. _Noah might not be feeling like himself,_ Kurt told himself sternly, _but that doesn’t mean you’re not in charge of him anymore._

Puck was standing outside the door, looking a little paler than he had a moment ago, and leaning back against the wall. He bit his lip when he saw Kurt. “I’m sorry.”

“Noah, it’s not your fault.” He reached out and hugged him before thinking whether or not it was a good idea, but Puck responded by holding on tightly, even desperately.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked.

“They don’t know yet.” He tried to reconstruct the three sentence description the doctor had given him about his dad’s arrhythmia. Puck just listened and nodded, holding onto his hand. Then Kurt realized who was still missing. “Where’s Finn?”

“He went to the garage to close up. He said he’d meet us here. I think he was mad you didn’t call him.”

“What the hell?” snapped Kurt. “Everybody in the world was calling him, including me. What, did he think I was going to leave him out? He’s the one who didn’t respond.”

“Okay, okay, whatever. You can tell him yourself.” Puck looked like he might be sick again. Kurt checked his own phone again, but while there were lots of well-wishes from the rest of Glee, there was no reply from Finn.

The four of them spent the rest of the evening in the emergency room while they processed his dad’s admittance to the eighth floor, where the cardiac patients went for recovery. The doctor who’d spoken with Kurt, whose name turned out to be Dr. Yee, gave Carole all the details. For once, Kurt was glad he didn’t have to be the detail person. 

“He’ll be in the ICU until he regains consciousness,” she told them as they gathered in the hallway. “Would you all please go eat something while I finish this paperwork? Then we can trade places. Finn said his cell phone is missing, by the way. He called from the garage.”

It was good to have an answer to one of the mysteries of the afternoon, anyway. Sarah and Puck held tight to one another’s hands, seeming not to realize they were doing it. Kurt let them take care of one another. He was kind of grateful for the space to himself.

“I’m not used to all this togetherness,” he told them, sitting opposite from them at the table with their cafeteria trays. “Still, even after this year, it’s weird to have people coming together when things happen. My family’s always been just me and my dad, and that’s it.”

“You liked Finn’s family reunion,” Puck pointed out. He was ignoring his soup on his tray, but Kurt wasn’t going to push him to eat.

“I did,” he agreed. “I especially liked watching you interacting with everybody.”

“Kids love Noah,” said Sarah. She munched a fry. “I never had patience for them, even when I was one.”

Puck tugged on her curls. “Still are.”

“Eighth grade isn’t a _kid,_ ” she said hotly.

“Kurt?”

They all looked up to see Finn standing there in the middle of the cafeteria, staring at him like Kurt had thrown a slushie on him.

“Finn,” said Kurt.

“What the hell happened?”

“My dad's in the hospital.” It was the words that had been going through his head all day. At this point he was almost able to say them without feeling sick.

“I know. My mom went and got us at school, but everybody was talking about it in Glee, and — I just felt like I was the last one to know.”

Kurt frowned. “I’m sorry, Finn. I called you, like, eight times.”

“Yeah, I thought my phone was in my bag, but it turns out it wasn’t.” He looked from Puck to Sarah and back to Kurt. “I thought… maybe you didn’t call me because he’s not my father.”

“Finn,” Kurt sighed. He pulled the chair out beside him and nodded at it. Finn sat down next to him, gingerly touching his shoulder, but Kurt shook his head and he pulled away. “I wouldn’t do that. He’s as close to a father as you have, right?”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“I know it may not look like what everybody else has,” Sarah said, “but we’re totally a family."

“Look, I-I guess I just I didn't like overhearing other people talking about it in Glee.” Now he looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Puck reached across the table and grabbed Finn’s hand. He looked surprised, but didn’t pull away. He was already holding on to Sarah’s hand on the other side. Kurt rolled his eyes and took Finn and Sarah’s hands.

“Blaine should be here,” she announced loudly.

“Sarah,” Puck said.

“What? You know he should. It’s stupid. His dad’s being stupid and _our_ dad’s being stupid and… there’s a lot of stupid happening. Yeah, you’re scared, I get it, but I’m not going to sit around and watch you guys let stuff slip away.” She kicked Puck under the table, and he jumped back. “ _Noah._ Not talking about it isn’t going to make it easier. This family stuff is _work._ Not like homework. Like… growing things. Like building a house. It takes a _lot of work._ ” She glared at him.

“So?” he said, looking uncertain.

“So stop fucking running away from it.” She turned her glare on Finn. “And _you._ So what if Carl and Emma want to get married? He gets to have a family too. Get over yourself.”

“Okay,” Finn said meekly. He glanced at Kurt. Sarah followed his eyes.

“And Kurt, you can still go see Blaine, right? Fucking _go_ already. It’s not like you can make it worse by trying something.” She made a frustrated noise. “Tatenui's up there and we don’t know what’s going to happen and — what if this is all the time we have? You can cry all you want and all it is is lost time. _Do_ something.” She kicked Puck again, and this time he let out a little _hey._ “Fuck.”

Kurt felt the combination hilarity-reaction of the day mixing with the unsatisfying soup in his stomach. He leaned his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. “I don’t think there’s always something _to_ do, Sarah. Sometimes you just have to wait for things to happen.”

“Bullshit,” she hissed. “That’s nothing but a cop-out. You don’t get to do that, not when it _matters_ like this.” She slammed her thin hands down on the table. They all jumped. “I’m done with you three losers. I’ll be upstairs.”

They sat there and stared at one another after she left, still holding each other’s hands. Finn cleared his throat.

“I feel like I should say sorry, but I don’t even know what I’m saying sorry for at this point.”

“You already said sorry,” Kurt said. “Noah, would you stay in town tonight?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Puck hesitated, then added, carefully. “Do you want — anything else?”

 _Not if you’re not willing to give it,_ he thought. He shook his head. “I’ll think about what Sarah said, though. Because I think… I think we’re not doing so well without Blaine. And I think it’s going to get harder.” _Because my dad’s in the hospital,_ his brain whispered.

Finn seemed to understand what he meant. “We’ll stay here with you and your dad,” he said. “People are gonna want to come and visit, and I can give them something to do. And I can tell them what you _don’t_ want.”

Kurt regarded him. “And what would that be?”

“You don’t want anybody’s prayers.” He nudged Puck’s hand. “Because you think God is kind of like Santa Claus for adults. Otherwise, God's kind of a jerk, isn't he? I mean, he makes you gay and then has his followers going around telling you it's something that you chose. As if someone would choose to be mocked every single day of their life.”

Kurt swallowed the tears in his throat, but the ones in his eyes leaked out anyway. He nodded, sniffing.

“And right now you don’t want a heavenly father. You want your real one back.” Finn stroked the back of Kurt’s hand with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, Noah,” Kurt said, when he could speak again. “You all can believe whatever you want to. But I can't believe something I don’t.”

“I don’t think I was asking for that,” said Puck. “Just let me do my thing. I won’t force it on you.”

“What about your dad?”

Puck didn’t say anything. Finn tugged at his hand until Puck stood up with him, and Kurt joined them.

“He doesn’t get a say, right? This is our family, not his. Puck, gimme your phone. I’d better call Carl and let him know I’m here before he comes over here himself.”

Puck watched him walk out of the cafeteria with his phone. He looked down at Finn’s untouched soup.

“He still hasn’t even been in your dad’s room,” he said, and raised an eyebrow at Kurt. “Who’s avoiding things now?”

* * *

Carole stayed at the hospital the next few days while the boys were at school. Each day was the same: after a wholly unsatisfying Glee rehearsal, Kurt managed to escape to the hospital while Puck and Finn were at football practice. He’d already received hourly  _no change_ texts from Carole, so he wasn’t surprised to find his dad in the same position he’d been in the day before.

“I’ll do homework,” he said to Carole on Thursday, opening his government textbook. “Finn and Noah will be here later with Sarah. Go take a walk or something. Eat.”

Carole gave him a tired smile and a hug. “I have twelve fires at work to put out. I think I’ll be doing that for a few hours, at least. But I’ll be back in a bit.”

It was quiet for about twenty minutes. Kurt managed to write a page and a half about the similarities and differences between the judicial, legislative and executive branches before he set his pen down and went over to sit beside his dad.

“You’re missing all the drama,” he said. “It’s getting more complicated by the minute, and it seems like we keep _losing_ people. Blaine, and Adam’s on the other side of the world, and now Carl and —“ He took a steadying breath. “I know you didn’t always know what kind of advice to give when things got really weird. Maybe I could just use a hand to hold.”

Holding his dad’s limp hand and not feeling him hold back was worse than not touching him at all. Kurt rested his hand on top of his dad’s instead, and sang one of the Beatles songs he and Blaine and Finn had sung all summer. He sang it softly, so as not to disturb other patients, and slowly, because he knew he would cry if he tried to pretend to be cheerful.

_Yeah, I’ll tell you something I think you’ll understand  
_ _When I say that something, I wanna hold your hand  
_ _I wanna hold your hand, I wanna hold your hand…_

Someone at the door cleared his throat. Kurt stopped singing and looked up to see Dave Karofsky watching him with a stricken expression.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Dave uncomfortably. “Okay if I come in?”

Kurt was so surprised for a moment, he just sat there. Then he smiled, pushing his chair out and standing up. “Yeah, yeah… come in. I was just… you know, expressing myself. I don’t know if he can hear me, but it helps _me_ feel better.”

“How’s he doing?”

“The same. We’re taking turns keeping an eye on him, but it’s pretty quiet around here.”

“Except for the singing.”

Kurt flushed, smiling. “Yeah. That.”

Dave paused a few feet from the bed, shuffling his feet like he didn’t know where to stand. “I’m really sorry about all this, Kurt. …And I bet you’ve been hearing a lot of people say those words.”

“A lot of a lot of things,” Kurt agreed. “So many well-meaning people. My dad has a lot of friends, people I don’t even know. A lot of people _praying_ for him.” He made a face, and Dave laughed.

“People kind of come out of the woodwork when things happen. You’re an atheist?”

Kurt nodded. “You?”

“Yeah.” When Kurt sat back down at the table, Dave sat across from him. He didn’t take off his letterman jacket. “I think people don’t know what to do, so they say they’ll pray. It gives them an action. Even if they aren’t sure they believe, it’s kind of a benign thing to do. Kind thoughts, all that.”

“Yeah, but maybe it’s a little excessive? To ignore somebody most of the time and then want to offer all the prayers in the moment of crisis?” Kurt shook his head. “It doesn’t feel very benign to me. It’s too much all at once.”

“You’re looking for the Golden Mean,” said Dave.

Kurt stared at him. The phrase came out of nowhere, right off the cover of the third Griffin and Sabine book, which was currently sitting by his bedside at home. “How did you — what is that?”

Dave picked up Kurt’s pen and drew a symbol in the margin of Kurt’s government paper: φ, a little circle with a tail in the center. He added = 1.618. “My calculus teacher calls it _the most irrational number._ In math, you get it when you have a ratio in which the longer part divided by the smaller part is also equal to the whole length divided by the longer part.” He grinned at Kurt’s confused face. “That’s the Fibonacci sequence. And, in Aristotelian philosophy, it’s the desirable middle between two extremes, one of excess and the other of deficiency. In architecture and other forms of design, it shows up a lot. In nature, too. It’s, like, what’s comfortable to the eye. Balance, between the relationship of two parts of a whole with each other and with the whole.”

Tears hadn’t been far away all week, and Kurt felt them prickle at his eyes and throat now. _The desirable middle between extremes._ “Yeah. I do feel a little out of balance in all my relationships. And with the whole.”

“In Buddhism, it’s called the middle way. The balance between the extremes of sensual indulgence and self-mortification.” At Kurt’s look, he added hastily, “Not — that I’m a Buddhist. It’s just an interesting parallel.”

“It’s the title of the third Griffin and Sabine book,” Kurt said, after an uncomfortable silence. “Puck and Finn’s names both randomly showed up in the story. It was… surprising.”

“Oh.” Dave looked even more uncomfortable. “Did… was it a good story? I mean, how did it come out?”

“I don’t know.” Kurt stared down at the number on his paper. “We never finished it. Maybe tonight. I guess it might help to know how it ends.”

Dave nodded. “I was actually trying to think if there was anything _I_ could do to help.”

Kurt was about to say _no, nothing,_ just as he had to everybody else who’d asked that question, when he realized there _was_ something Dave could do. “Well, yes. But you might not want to do it.”

Dave shook his head vehemently. “Whatever — anything. Anything you need.”

“It’s Blaine.”

Dave’s face froze. “Kurt —“

“His dad cut him off from us. Took away his phone. He forbade Blaine from seeing Puck or Finn anymore. I’m the only one who can visit.”

“Oh… shit.” Dave looked positively horrified, which Kurt thought was pretty big of him, considering Dave didn’t benefit at all from Blaine being in their lives. “That really sucks.”

“That’s only part of it. He seems to have gone into some kind of fantasy world, pretending we don’t exist. His roommate’s not convinced he knows it’s not real. He thinks Blaine’s had an actual mental break.” He looked at Dave, who definitely was on the verge of bolting. “I need you to go see him. You know him better than anybody.”

“Santana,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Santana’s his oldest friend,” Dave said. “You should ask her.”

He’d completely forgotten that. “That’s a really good idea, actually. That is, if you’re going to say no.”

Dave visibly squirmed. “I want to help. I really do. But I think it would be a mistake for me to go to Dalton because there’s a good chance I’ll end up resenting somebody. Probably Finn, but maybe you, and… I don’t want that.”

“All right.” Kurt nodded in resignation. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Yeah, I think I did promise that.” He gave Kurt a halfhearted smile as he stood up. “Can you… ask again, the next time you need something? Something else, I mean.”

“I can do that. Thanks, Dave. For coming by.”

The smile flashed a little bigger, enough for Kurt to see the real pleasure in it. “Thanks for wanting me to. And good luck.”

 _He really does care about Blaine,_ Kurt reminded himself. He rested his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes. _And me. This is not the time to worry about what I do or don’t have._


	17. Grilled Cheesus, Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry my posting schedule has diminished. I've been working on my Puckurt story for the upcoming Fuckurt Big Bang, so this story is on hold until I finish that. Here's a little depressing Pinn sex for you in the interim.

Kurt slept in long enough on Thursday morning that he was awakened by his phone ringing at 6:45, rather than his alarm going off at 6:15. He groped for the phone on the nightstand and put it to his ear. “H’lo?”

 _“Honey,”_ said Adam. He sounded abashed. _“I’m so sorry to wake you up. I’m sure you’re not sleeping all that well.”_

“No, no.” Kurt struggled to sit up, rubbing his eyes. He squinted at the clock. “It’s — I should be awake anyway. You know you can call me any time.”

 _“I wouldn’t usually bother you in the morning, honey, but…”_ He heard Adam sigh. “ _I have some bad news. I don’t think I can make it this weekend.”_

“Oh.” He swallowed his disappointment. “It’s okay. Is everything all right?”

_“My tour schedule got changed suddenly. I thought I was going to have a weekend free, but then they scheduled me an extra two radio interviews, and there’s a benefit, and —“_

“It’s okay,” said Kurt. He touched the empty spot in his bed where Puck had been the night before. “I’ve been at the hospital every night anyway. I wouldn’t be much fun to be around.”

 _“That wasn’t my goal,”_ Adam protested. “ _I — well, I wanted a chance to take care of you, for a change.”_

He breathed until he could get control of his tears. “Another time. It’ll be better later. Do you want me to tell Noah?”

_“I’ll tell him. That is, if I can reach him on the phone. He hasn’t been calling, Kurt.”_

Kurt knew, but he wasn’t about to tell Adam that. “I’m really sorry.”

_“I’m just worried about him. It’s hard not being around enough to know how things are really going, you know?”_

“I miss you,” said Kurt honestly. “But we’ll be okay. When your tour is over, we can try again.”

_“I hope your dad is okay.”_

Adam had said the same thing the day before, and the day before that. It didn’t feel bad, but it was hard to know there wasn’t anything more forthcoming. He kept his breathing even.

“Thanks,” he said. “I love you.”

 _“God, I love you so much. Both of you.”_ He could hear Adam crying. _“I hope your day is all right. Call me tonight?”_

Kurt promised. After they’d said good-bye, he climbed out of bed and put on his robe, then crossed through the bedroom to Finn’s room.

Puck was curled up in a tiny ball on the bottom half of Finn’s bed, his forehead pressed against Finn’s thigh. Finn was still deep in sleep, his mouth hanging slack as he breathed loudly, but his hand was resting on top of Puck’s head, rising and falling with Puck’s own inhalations and exhalations.

Kurt paused in the doorway to watch them sleeping for rather longer than he meant to. Then he made a very deliberate throat-clearing noise. As he’d expected, Puck roused almost immediately, opening his eyes and sitting up.

“Kurt?” he called.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said. Then he bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to use that term — but after talking with Adam, it was hard to keep it from slipping out. The memory of the three of them was loud in his mind.

Puck slid his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, rubbing his head. Then he came to Kurt and stood there, watching him. He didn’t try to make contact, and Kurt didn’t push him. For a brief moment, he felt a rushing wave of relief he wasn’t going to have to explain _this_ Puck to Adam.

“I have bad news,” he said. “Adam called. He can’t come to visit this weekend. We’re going to have to postpone it until the end of the tour.”

Perhaps it was the vulnerability of the early morning, but for a brief moment, Puck looked absolutely terrified. Then he dropped his eyes to the floor, and when he looked up at Kurt again, he was calm again.

“Okay,” he said. “Probably better, with your dad in the hospital.”

Kurt had thought much the same thing, but somehow when he heard Puck say it, it sounded completely unreasonable. To be fair, he nodded.

“He would like to talk with you,” said Kurt. “Would you… if you have time, could you call him?”

Puck nodded back, but he was already turning away, facing the wall. It was almost worse than feeling his own persistent pain to see the way that Puck was dealing with his own.

 _He shouldn’t have to do that,_ he thought. Then he stuffed the thought way down, into a place where it was easier to ignore. He couldn’t take Puck into his arms, and he couldn’t discipline him. All he could do was go on with his day, and do his best to keep breathing.

* * *

Late Friday night, Finn opened his eyes for what felt like the millionth time to the sound of Puck whimpering and crying in his sleep. This time, however, Kurt was awake, propped up on his elbow, one hand on Puck’s chest. He knew better than to try to shush him or soothe him; Puck wasn’t going to stop crying unless they woke him up and interrupted the dream.

“He said he wasn’t dreaming anymore,” Kurt said. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him the nightmares have only gotten worse.”

Finn closed his eyes again and sighed. “Louder, anyway.”

“You can go back to your room. Nobody would be offended.”

“I might.” But he didn’t move, other than to scoot a little closer to Puck and rest his head on his arm. He wasn’t going to throw a leg over him, because even though that would probably calm him, the stimulation would definitely inspire some things Puck wasn’t ready to do with them at the moment. Kurt rested his own head on Puck’s other shoulder, staring into Finn’s face.

“You won the football game. I heard on the radio on the way home from the hospital.”

Finn nodded. “Sam dislocated his arm, though. I’m acting quarterback until he’s healed up.”

“Ouch.” Kurt winced.

“Yeah. It was a good game. Puck did good.”

They lay together in silence, listening to the steady hum of the baby monitor.

“I miss him,” Kurt said softly. “Not just the sex. I miss disciplining him. I miss who he was when I did that. He’s so _quiet_ now, even when he’s cooking. He doesn’t want to serve. There’s… no joy.”

Finn nodded. “I know what you mean.” He placed a hand on Puck’s chest, and Kurt put his own hand on top of Finn’s. “I miss you, too. All those things, with you. You deserve some joy, too.”

Kurt’s eyes flashed. “There’s room for me to join you over on that side of the bed, right?”

“I don’t think we should do that here, not with him feeling… the way he’s feeling.” Finn paused. “But we could go in my room for a little while?”

Kurt nodded. Finn sat up and crept off the end of the bed. Kurt carefully got down from the other side. He took Finn’s hand and they took Beth’s baby monitor with them through the bathroom into Finn’s room.

“I don’t know if he’ll stay asleep,” said Kurt. “But if he wakes up alone, I don’t think he’ll feel hurt.”

“It’s not like he’s not capable of taking care of himself, Kurt.” But Finn knew it wasn’t the same as it had been before, when they could have paired off on any given night. Now Puck was deliberately putting himself on the outside.

He quietly helped Kurt out of his pajamas, pulling the blankets back, then invited him to stretch out on top of him. Kurt settled on top of him, naked, with a long sigh.

“Nobody feels like you, Finn,” he said.

“You, too, baby.” He kissed him, long and slow, until Kurt began to move more insistently against him. “What can I do for you?”

“Don’t know yet. Too many things I miss.”

“If you don’t pick, I’m going to take over.”

Kurt sighed again. “That might be what I want you to do for me, then.”

Finn nodded, spreading his own legs wide to make room for Kurt between them. “I was thinking about our date night. The one with dinner, dancing and a movie.”

“That one, hmm?” Even in the dark, he could hear the smile on Kurt’s face. Kurt knelt down, dragging his cheek along the softest, most sensitive part of Finn’s inner thigh. He could feel every bit of the prickly stubble. It was new, just as it was new that Kurt was suddenly an inch taller, his arms and legs and hands and cock all perceptibly longer. “You want me inside you like that?”

“Yeah,” said Finn. “I’ll save the dinner and dancing for another night.”

Kurt could have found his way without Finn’s hands on him, putting him where he wanted him, but it was hotter for both of them for Finn to have that small amount of control over him. He gasped as Kurt thrust his tongue inside, fucking him open with fingers and tongue and loving care.

“No lube,” he said. “Just you, nice and slow. God… yeah. Like that.”

He didn’t need much encouragement to open up for Kurt, not after ten months of weekly plug training, but it felt so good, he didn’t want him to stop. It was Kurt’s own moans and thrusts against the bed that prompted him to draw Kurt up onto his knees again and say, “Okay, baby. Inside me, now.”

Kurt let him set the pace, moving with gentle nudges, in and out, until there was just the right amount of tug on his skin. The moment Kurt bottomed out, Finn urged, “Again. Harder,” and Kurt groaned as he thrust deeper.

“I’m not… gonna last,” he gasped, doing it again.

“If you do that, I’m not gonna need it,” Finn promised. He used his own hands to spread himself wider, feeling the pressure mount. “Fuck — again. C’mon, you’re not hurting me. Harder.”

“I can’t do it any harder!”

Finn reached up and grasped Kurt’s hips, pulling him in against him, making him exclaim. “Like that. Like you’re — like you’re paddling me. _Hard._ ”

Kurt let out a little sob, but he obliged as best as he could, snapping his hips up into Finn, over and over, until he came and collapsed on top of him, panting. Finn held him close while he recovered, feeling his own desire still waiting.

“God. That was —“

“Finish me with your fingers, baby,” Finn begged.

Kurt withdrew and replaced his cock with two fingers, then three, and with urging from Finn, four.

“No more than that without lube,” Kurt said, and when Finn let out a whine of frustration, he added, “I can stop and get some?”

“No, no, don’t stop… just do me hard. Yeah, like that… come on, I need it _.”_

Four fingers didn’t let Kurt get quite deep enough to hit the really sweet spots, but with a lot of vigorous thrusting, Kurt was able to get Finn to come anyway. He kept his legs spread wide for a while after that, feeling the gentle burn of the width of Kurt’s palm still inside him.

“I wonder if you could do that to me,” Kurt mused. “Your hands are really big.”

“Work up to it, baby. Trust me, that would have been really painful last year.”

“Yeah, it just looks like so much fun when you do it.”

They both yawned through their quick shower. Beth was still sleeping, and although Puck was in an entirely different place on the bed than he had been when they’d left him, he was asleep too. They crawled back in on either side of him, moving him back into the center with gentle nudges.

“I hope he got enough sleep.”

“I’m thinking about going down to Columbus tomorrow morning,” said Finn. “Not to see Blaine. To talk to Irene.”

Kurt considered him with heavy-lidded eyes. “ _He_ might be there, though.”

“He might. Ms. Pillsbury said he was there last time. If he was, I would stay out of sight.”

He sighed unhappily. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. But… I’m not sure I can say no to you after sex like that.”

“You can say no.”

“I never want to say no to you.” Kurt turned his head away. “If you do see him, would you please take a picture for me? I miss him so much.”

Finn didn’t question why Kurt was still dissatisfied, even after the awesome thing they’d just done. He knew the answer. It wasn’t the _what,_ it was the _who._

“You’re the brains,” he said. Kurt’s brow creased.

“What?”

“What we said, after our date. You’re the brains of our family. I’m the heart, Puck’s… the cock.” He sighed. “Not anymore, I guess. We’re missing parts.”

“And Blaine,” Kurt added. “Blaine is… Blaine is…”

“The thing that keeps us together,” Finn said. “He makes us whole.”

That was close enough to the exact truth that Kurt started to cry. Finn just held his hand while he did it, until he was done and the room was quiet again. He kissed Kurt’s fingers. He heard one more whispered question before he slid back into sleep:

“Are we ever going to be whole again, Finn?”

* * *

Puck’s dad’s synagogue wasn’t anything like any synagogue Puck had ever been to before. It wasn’t even like the liberal reform synagogue he’d attended with Adam in Santa Fe. It was, Puck thought, more like the way church looked on television. Not the big flashy churches where people stood up and sang, but the small, sit-in-pews and bow-your-head kind of church. He felt like he might be part of something new when he sat with them, a real grassroots movement.

Ethan wasn’t a particularly charismatic rabbi, but there was something about him that made Puck really want to listen. He wished half of his teachers were that compelling. He especially appreciated that Ethan didn’t try to make him feel bad for not agreeing with him.

“Jews have a long history of thoughtful dissent,” Ethan said. Puck liked that idea.

He picked up Beth from Shelby’s after services. On his way out of town, they stopped at a little diner on I-76 heading west for breakfast. His dad chuckled over Beth and gave her some pieces of broccoli to investigate while they ate. Then he reached over the table and set a brochure down in front of Puck.

“Adventure Camp,” he said. “The J4J community would pay part of your way, and I’d pay the rest, and drive you out there.”

“To Oregon?” Puck eyed the photos of boys rock-climbing, boys playing sports, boys sitting around a fire, boys praying over their dinner. “Isn’t that kind of a long way?”

“You could take a few days off school. Unless you think you’d miss something important.”

Puck snorted. “Not hardly.” He looked at Beth studiously gumming the broccoli. “I’d miss people. But they could deal with me being gone for a week. Would you be there?”

“No, it’s just for kids around your age, I think starting around fifteen and going up to twenty. But I’d pick you up when you were done. I have friends out there I can stay with. Noah, these boys, they’re having a lot of the same conversations we’re having here. They’re learning how to be all the things you’re learning to be. Maybe you could teach them a few things.” He tapped the brochure. “I bet they would have a few things to teach you.”

It was hard to say no to his dad under the best of circumstances, but in this case, he didn’t see much of a downside. “Could I bring my guitar?”

“I don’t see why not.”

He nodded. “Would you bring yours?”

“Yeah.” His dad gave Beth a raspberry on the cheek, watching her giggle and smiling. “You bet.” Then his expression became grave. “I know this, what we’re doing, it doesn’t make up for all the things I did wrong, but I hope it helps you see that I’m serious about giving you what you need. Being a real father to you.”

Puck wasn’t sure what to think about that. Yeah, his dad was being great, and he appreciated that, but he’d done that in the past, too. It was the times when he failed to come through for him that Puck remembered most.

“I think it’s a good start,” Puck told him. “I’m not looking for you to buy me back with this vacation, you know.”

“I’m thinking of it more like an investment in your future,” said his dad.

* * *

The regular Saturday crowd was just passing around the open mic sign-up list when the phone behind the counter rang. Irene reached for the receiver. “Java the Hut.”

_“Hey, Irene, it’s F- Christopher. I’m, um. I’m out in the parking lot. I wanted to know if Blaine was here today.”_

“You mean _Patrick?_ No, he’s not here this week, but he was here the last two.” She scanned the room for Derek, but he was absent as well. “As for Blaine… I haven’t seen _him_ in months.”

He sighed. _“Okay if I come in? I’m not supposed to be around him. The last thing I want to do is get him in trouble.”_

“This free country says you can be here, no matter who else is here, Christopher.”

He appeared at the door a few minutes later. A couple of the regulars waved at him, looking excited, and he waved back.

“I’m really not up for performing today,” he told Irene. She nodded, drawing him an Italian soda and adding lime without asking. He sipped it absently.

“You can drive an hour and a half to come hang out at my coffee house. I’m not complaining. How’s your boyfriend’s dad? I heard he was in the hospital.”

“Not doing so good,” he said. “No change, anyway. We keep hoping he’ll wake up any time, but it’s been over a week. They’re keeping him in the ICU. K- my boyfriend, he’s there today.”

Irene looked at him steadily. It was hard to maintain appropriate distance, especially when she could see so many of Carole’s mannerisms in him. “I’ll be hoping for a good outcome for him.”

“Thanks. My mom said you’re buying the Lima Bean?” He smiled a little. “Blaine was hoping you might have an open mic up there too.”

She nodded calmly. “We’ll be taking over ownership after the new year. My cousin will come up from Atlanta to help me get started. I bet he’ll agree we could use some performers.”

“Yeah, well.” Christopher shrugged, stirring his drink. “I don’t think Blaine will be showing up there.”

“No, but Patrick might.”

He nodded. “I was hoping… I wanted to see for myself, how he was.” He eyed her. “Can you tell me anything?”

“Well, you know Patrick. That’s how he was. There wasn’t any sign of Blaine.”

Christopher nodded again. He let out a tired sigh.

“Did you hear about… Derek and Jane? They’re getting married.”

“I heard,” she said, keeping her face as straight and stony as ever. He wasn’t going to get an opinion from her one way or another about that, no matter how strongly she might feel about it.

“Can I tell you something?” He leaned in over the counter. “My mom, when she was coming down here, I thought maybe she was coming to see you. For… something other than coffee.”

Irene chuckled. “I can’t imagine what would have led you to believe that. Your mom and I haven’t done anything like that in sixteen years.”

“She was just being kind of secretive. But she told me about the Lima Bean, so. I guess you’re not doing anything with her.” He watched her face for confirmation.

“No,” she said clearly. “We’re not. Christopher, you know I think your mom’s a special lady, but I’m not losing my religion over her.”

He looked momentarily confused. “You’re not… what?”

“Regional southern phrase,” she said, with a shake of her head. _“_ Sorry. _Losing my religion_ means being out of control, losing my focus. Pining for her. I like my life the way it is. I’m glad to have her back in my life, but that’s all.”

Christopher nodded slowly, thinking that over.

“I think,” he said carefully, “I might still be… losing my religion over Derek.”

Irene scooped loose tea into the strainer compartment of her favorite teapot and added boiling water from the hot tap. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“You’re looking for advice?”

He nodded. “If you have any.”

“I _always_ have advice,” she said, and he grinned. “By the way I see it, you’ve got two options. You can give up and move on. There’s strategies for that, but I don’t think they’re working very well for you.” She looked at him pointedly, and he nodded. “Or you can fight for him.”

“Yeah, but Mrs - Jane, she said, I don’t have to fight. That I can have him. Some of him, anyway.”

She regarded him. “How does that feel to you?”

“Like not enough,” he admitted. “I don’t just want to be his — toy. I want to be his boyfriend. But I can’t be. She’s going to be his _wife,_ and I’m just going to be… you know, stuck in the corner when he’s not playing with me.”

“Well, then. I don’t think your options have changed.” She poured her tea and added a spoonful of honey. “You want to fight for him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” He shrugged. “I don’t really think I have a whole lot of say until I graduate from high school. I think whatever I do should wait until then.”

“That’s a wise plan. Even though you’ll be eighteen in January.”

Christopher gave her a surprised smile. “How did you remember that?”

She gave the tea a sip and nodded, satisfied. “I was there when you were born, kiddo. There are some things you never forget.”

* * *

The whole of Glee club watched Finn sing “Losing My Religion” with a puzzled expression.

“I thought we couldn’t sing songs about religion?” Tina asked.

“It’s not _about_ religion,” Finn said. “It’s a phrase that people use in the south. It means —“

“Losing your sh- uh, cool,” Sam broke in. “Yeah, my mom says it.”

Finn nodded. “Michael Stipe said when he wrote this song, he was talking about unrequired love.”

“Unrequited,” Kurt corrected, with a little smile.

“Yeah, that. About not getting what you want, and feeling… incomplete.” He avoided Kurt’s eyes. “It just felt appropriate.”

Mr. Schue came up to him after Glee club and shook his hand. “That sounded good, Finn. Michael Stipe’s a surprisingly good fit for your voice.”

“Blaine and — and my band and I sing Kid Fears, by the Indigo Girls,” he said, “and Michael Stipe has a part in that. I usually sing it.” He glossed over Carl’s name, because whatever relationship Mr. Schue already had with Carl, it was bound to end up more complicated if he and Ms. Pillsbury really did get married.

“I was thinking,” Mr. Schue went on, “and Emma and I were talking about this… you and Kurt and Puck, you’re going through a lot right now. Maybe you could use somebody to talk to.”

“Well, Puck’s been going to synagogue a lot,” he said.

“I was thinking more like a therapist. Somebody to listen and to help you sort through how you’re feeling.” He took a card out of his pocket. “I know a good one who happens to be in town. It’s somebody you know already.”

Finn was almost afraid to look at the card, but when he did, he smiled in surprise. “Ms. Holliday! My summer school Spanish teacher. I already have this card. She gave it to me at the end of the summer.”

Mr. Schue nodded, smiling. “She’s learning to be a teacher, but this is what she did before that. She knows Toby, too. Anyway, give it some thought. I’d be happy to call your mom and talk to her directly, but I figured she had enough on her plate, with Kurt’s dad in the hospital.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn said, “I can take it from here. Thanks.”

The first card Ms. Holliday had given him over the summer was still pinned to the bulletin board at home. Finn had thought about calling her almost every day, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to ask for what he

When Finn brought it up with his mom that evening at the hospital, Sarah grabbed the card from his hand and waved it in front of his mom’s nose.

“This is my _brother’s_ counselor!” she said.

“Timmy goes to therapy?” Puck wrinkled his nose. “Since when?”

“No, no — my half-brother. The one you haven’t met. He said she’s really good. She was your Spanish teacher?”

 _“Sí, y ella es una muy buena profesora,”_ said Finn. “She’s cool. I think she wouldn’t… you know, judge us about all the stuff we do.”

“I don’t think we need to add one more thing to our plate, Finn,” his mom said. But she took the card and put it in her purse. “It might look good for the adoption, though, if social services sees that Sarah and Puck are seeing a counselor.”

Sarah tugged on the hem of his mom’s shirt. “You’re still thinking about that? Even if Tatenui’s not around?”

“He’ll be around,” she said, with a determined smile. “I think we just have to have a little faith.”


	18. Grilled Cheesus, Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise: continued angst. 
> 
> On the bright side, we get to meet a bunch of new characters here, several of whom don't show up in the regular Glee timeline for a couple years! You can read more about Ricky, and what happens to Sarah’s other online friends in seasons four and five, in [Ricky’s own story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3389336).
> 
> I made a [new digital page about the Donutverse](https://spark.adobe.com/page/IjzJW/).

Finn came back to the hospital room after eating dinner to find Puck curled up in the chair asleep. Kurt pointed and put a finger to his lips. He beckoned Finn over to stand by his dad’s side.

“Try not to wake him. He slept really badly last night.” He sighed. “I was thinking about calling Shelby and asking her to take Beth this weekend, just so he could get some sleep himself, but I don’t think it would help.”

Finn put an arm around Kurt and they leaned against one another. “More waiting. Nothing’s really helping, is it?”

Kurt shook his head. “Maybe Sarah was right. We do need to do something.”

“The things we’ve been doing involve a little more privacy than we’ve got right now,” said Finn. “I know I could totally use a visit to Carl’s office.”

He shivered. “Maybe we could arrange some alone time at the house, two at a time. Something to help us get back into balance.”

“I don’t know if Puck can do that without it being about sex,” Finn said regretfully.

“I don’t know either, but it might be worth trying?” Kurt reached out and fixed the snaps on his dad’s hospital gown with a rueful smile. “Feels kind of rude talking about this in front of my dad. If he were awake he’d be putting his fingers in his ears and saying _lalalala_ already.”

“Well, tell him about something he would want to hear, then.”

Kurt thought for a moment. “I guess… I would tell him about how awesome Sarah was the other day in the cafeteria. She saw something was wrong and she took charge. She’s not afraid to say exactly what she feels, ever. I wish I could be as brave as her.”

“You think that was brave?” Finn shook his head. “I think she was desperate.”

“Maybe they’re not such different things.” He smoothed his dad’s gown as the monitor beeped. “I remember asking my mom once why I didn’t have a brother or a sister. She said it was because I was exactly enough for them. That was after she was diagnosed, though. I wonder if she really wanted to have another baby, but she couldn’t because of the radiation treatment?” He smiled through the tears. “And now we have so many people in our family, and it feels… overwhelming. And wonderful. And horrible when they go away. I wonder if my parents chose not to have more kids because they were afraid to lose them? Or maybe they tried and did lose them, before they had me? So many questions. I’m sorry I never got to ask them.”

Finn took his hand and squeezed it, but then Kurt said, “Dad?” in a tremulous voice, and there was something there Finn hadn’t heard before. It was hope.

“Nurse Nancy!” Finn called. He took a step toward the door, watching Kurt.

“Dad, I’m right here,” Kurt said, leaning in to take his dad’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere.” He looked up at Finn, his face alight. “Go, go — get someone. He’s waking up.”

The last thing Finn wanted to do was to walk away from Kurt, but if that was what he needed, he was going to do it. He intercepted the nurse in the hall, and she got Burt’s nurse, and by the time they returned, Puck was awake and _Burt_ was opening his eyes, and Kurt was arguing with the nurse that _no,_ he wasn’t leaving that spot. Finn let out a laugh of relief.

“Come on, Kurt,” he said, tugging him away. “Let them do their job and take care of your dad.”

He put an arm around Kurt and Puck put another one around him, and when Sarah and Carole returned from dinner a few minutes later, that was how they found them, watching as Burt gradually responded to Nurse Nancy's stimulus tests.

“Oh, thank god,” Carole said, and she hugged Sarah and began to cry.

* * *

It took another two days before the hospital was willing to release Burt to Carole’s care and let her take him home. They made a lot of noise getting him settled in his room, but he went willingly, mostly because he was too weak to protest.

“He’s not going to be happy about his new dietary restrictions,” said Kurt, reading them over.

“I’ll consider it a challenge.” Puck nodded at the list. “I can do healthy and tasty at the same time. Trust me.”

The mood around the house was significantly more optimistic that evening. Sarah brought the Monopoly board out and talked the rest of them into playing a game while Burt slept.

“We’ll keep the same schedule we had for a few days,” Carole told them as she rolled the dice. “I’ll be home in the morning, then you take over after school, and we’ll trade off evenings. He can’t drive for another week or more. No strenuous exercise — stairs count, but he’ll be okay since we’re on the first floor.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Sarah asked. She was looking hard at Carole.

“Yes,” said Carole. “As much as anybody can be sure they’ll be okay. Burt’s chances are excellent.”

“Okay.” She nodded decisively and tapped the table. “So I think we should do this family therapy thing.”

Carole looked around the table, but considering she was the only adult, there wasn’t much eye conversation to be had. “Okay?”

“It’s something to _do_ ,” Sarah said. “In addition to praying. And Holly, Finn likes her and says she would understand. And she’s Toby’s friend. And she’s Coach Beiste’s roommate.”

“She — what?” Finn stared at her. Sarah waved him away with brisk irritation.

“Not important. Just, that’s like five hurdles already. Somebody to talk to who doesn’t need an explanation about some of our awesome weirdness.”

“Our awesome weirdness.” Carole was already smiling. “All right, I’ll call her. Finn, just so I don’t make too many assumptions, how much _does_ she already know?”

“That I have a boyfriend. Boyfriends.” He glanced over at Puck. “And a little about Carl. No names. She said there was nothing I could tell her she hadn’t heard before.”

Carole tried not to smile. “I think collectively we might challenge her a little there.”

* * *

When the doorbell rang, Burt attempted to get up off the couch, but Sarah all but sat on him.

“Carole said no getting up,” she said.

“Sarah, I’m not climbing stairs,” he protested, struggling under her insignificant weight. “And honestly, I’m not sure how _sitting_ on me is better.”

“No getting up,” she repeated, louder, and he subsided with a minimal amount of muttering. It was somewhat irritating how fast he really did run out of energy, but he felt like he should at least try to object, just on principle. He listened as she went to the door and opened it.

“Hi there,” said a sweet, melodic voice. “I bet you’re Sarah. Jake told me you’d be here today. Is your mom or dad here?”

“Come in,” he called. “I’m under strict orders not to get off the couch.”

The smiling woman who rounded the corner looked more like a fashion model than a therapist, but Burt was learning not to judge based on appearances.

“Well, I’ll play along with those orders. No dancing or other aerobic activity in our session today. I’m Holly Holliday. Call me Holly.”

He took her offered hand and shook it while Sarah sat next to him on the couch. “Hey there. I’m Burt Hummel. My son — Kurt, he goes to McKinley. Have a seat, please… I hear you taught Finn this summer.”

“That’s right. Finn Hudson.” She settled in the chair across from them, then cocked her head. “How do you know him? Nice place you got here.”

“Finn is Carole’s son. She’s my, uh.” He looked over at Sarah and smiled helplessly. “My fiancée.”

Sarah’s eyes got really big. “No shit,” she breathed. Then she launched herself at him in one of those Puckerman tackle hugs that left him laughing and scrambling for purchase on the edge of the couch.

“I take it that was good news,” drawled Holly, grinning at them.

“We haven’t told anybody,” he gasped. “Sarah, please, some respect for the invalid.”

“I won’t tell.” Sarah made an X over her heart. “Promise. That is _awesome_ news.”

“So you all live together in this lovely abode. How about that.” Holly turned kind eyes on Sarah. “So which one is your brother, Kurt or Finn?”

“Neither. My brother’s Noah. Most people call him Puck. He’s Kurt’s boyfriend. Except Jake’s my half-brother. And I have another brother, Timothy, who doesn’t live with us anymore because he works with Lady Gaga.”

She waved her hands for peace. “Okay, okay, wait. Hold on. Who’s Noah again? Kurt’s boyfriend? And he lives here?”

“I’m in the process of adopting Noah and Sarah,” Burt said. The idea still made him smile.

“Our Ma died last year,” Sarah added. “Our dad’s giving up custody to Tatenui — Mr. Hummel.”

“Wow. I think I’m going to need a flow chart or something. This is fabulous.” Holly didn’t look thrown at all; on the contrary, she seemed excited. She opened up her notebook to a blank page. “Here, I think I have a pen in my bag.”

She actually drew a flow chart, with circles and squares and lines connecting them. Sarah and Burt took a few minutes describing the familial connections between all the people who lived in the house while Holly made notes. When he got to Beth, she added Quinn with dashed lines, after which Sarah decided they needed to add all the family members who didn’t live in the house that way, too.

“Don't forget Blaine,” she said.

Burt turned to Holly. “I think this is the point at which you have to reassure me that all of this is confidential.”

“I will if this is the point at which you decide you like me well enough to hire me? I mean, as long as you’re not breaking the law, and nobody’s threatening suicide, and there’s no abuse or neglect. We can look at the consent forms any time.”

He looked at Sarah, who nodded. “We like you,” she said. “Ready for all the weird stuff?”

“Fire away,” Holly said cheerfully.

To her credit, she didn’t blink when he noted the romantic relationships between Puck, Kurt and Finn. Adding a box for Carl meant a circuitous line connecting to Shelby and a resulting line to the Rachel box, who was already in place as Finn’s girlfriend. Burt wasn’t sure if that was the right term, but he figured it was close enough for a first discussion.

“And Adam,” Sarah continued. When Burt hesitated, she took the pen from him and drew in a box with dotted lines connecting to Kurt and Puck.

“Adam Lambert.” Holly’s eyebrows went way, way up. “Huh. We’re talking major-league obsession, then?”

“No, we’re talking flesh and blood secret boyfriend,” Burt said grimly. “Seriously. I wouldn’t make that up.”

This made her laugh and clap her hands in delight. “I think I should pay _you_ to let me listen to this. I can’t wait to hear _that_ story. Okay, what else? Sarah said Lady Gaga. Is she a girlfriend too?”

Sarah was giggling. “No, but Finn’s cousin is Katy Perry.”

“Katy Perry as in _Teenage Dream_ Katy Perry?” She turned her astonished face to Burt for confirmation. He nodded.

“On Finn’s father’s side. That song’s about Finn and Puck, actually.”

She turned her palms to the sky and threw her head back, basking in imaginary light. “I am in rapture. Come on, that can’t be all.”

“Well, unless you want to hear about the specifics of their relationships. I’m going to leave those to the boys to tell you.” Burt coughed. “Carole and I probably don’t know all of it. Privacy kind of went out the window when they started dating, but we’re trying to maintain… well, appropriate boundaries.”

Holly was smiling, and not in a teasing way. “Burt, I will say you have already exceeded most parents’ _appropriate boundaries_ in the course of this conversation. But I am all about personal disclosure and honesty between parents and children. If your son trusted you enough to tell you these things about his relationships, I will call that a positive. We can talk more about your goals and the kids’ goals for privacy. I can already tell I’m going to want to meet individually and in groups with each of you.” She was making furious notes in her book as she spoke. “We’re going to have to budget time carefully. Introductory sessions like this are usually an hour or more, but that would end up being a lot of people, in a lot of sessions.”

“Carole has health insurance that might cover sessions for her and Finn,” Burt said. He nudged Sarah. “We can talk more about that later. You want to go first? Talk to Holly about what’s bothering you?”

She scoffed. “The only thing that’s bothering me are my stupid brothers. Well, and my equally stupid dad.”

“I’m sure we can find lots of things to keep us busy.” Holly stood up, shouldering her bag, and smiled at Burt one last time before turning her attention on Sarah. “I would love a tour of this beautiful house, to begin with?”

“You have to see the library. And the landscaping in the back; Finn worked really hard on that.” Their voices became less distinct as Sarah led her into the foyer.

Burt sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a moment. He did like Holly, and her reaction had been promising. Knowing that Finn had liked her as a teacher was another point in her favor.

 _A chance to talk about what’s bothering us,_ he thought wearily. God knew they could all use a little of that.

He must have fallen asleep for a few minutes, because the next time he opened his eyes, the light coming through the blinds was different and Sarah and Holly were sitting with Holly's laptop open at the kitchen table. He started to get up, then thought better of it and called out instead. “Sarah?”

She was beside him in an instant, talking excitedly. “Holly’s showing me how to get on the discussion group. Jake uses it to talk to his friends. He said they’re great.”

“It’s a supplement to one-on-one sessions,” Holly said, “exclusively for the kids in my former group practice. It gives them a safe outlet to talk about their daily life and get some peer support. It’s completely private; the only adults who have access are therapists, but we don’t do too much talking. We let the kids run the show, as long as they’re following the rules. Rule number one?” She gestured to Sarah, who read from the top of the screen:

“One, I’m not here to fix myself or anyone else. Two, I’ll strive to balance positive with honest. Three, I’ve got a voice and I’ll use it.”

“Hey, you could use some practice with rule number two, Sarah.” Burt grinned as she responded with growls and tickles and fended away her advances with one hand. “All right. Do I need to sign some stuff, consent forms and contracts, make this official?”

“I’ll send you a packet in the mail. My old office will type it all up.” Holly gave Burt a card with the name _Christian December Holliday_ on it. “This is the name you’ll see referenced on the paperwork, but it’s me. I moved out of that practice before I changed my name this summer. Can we schedule some times in the next couple weeks for me to meet with the boys and Carole?

“And _you…_ ” She turned to Sarah, offering her a fist to punch. Sarah did, with relish. “I’ll see _you_ online.”

* * *

_Online: Jake.  
_ _Login 2010-10-16 20:04:37: Sarah. Mood: curious._

_S: Anybody around?_

_J: hey new grl, its jake_

_S: This thing is hilarious. It’s at once perfectly retro stylish and also screaming for a makeover._

_J: yeah well its better than facebook_

_S: It’s not gonna be too weird having your sister around?_

_J: dude its just a couple of us. and its not like you and I grew up together. no last names tho_

_S: Yeah, Holly said I could pick a screen name, but I figured it was stupid not to be myself considering I’m specifically trying not to hide._

_J: that works if who you are is who you wanna be_

_S: Point._

_J: nobody else online at the moment, but you can introduce yrself anyway, theyll see it tomorrow_

_S: I guess anything’s better than “Jake’s little sister.” I’m Sarah, I’m in 8_ _ th _ _grade in Lima, I built a house, I have a lot of brothers, I like cooking and drawing and writing stupid song lyrics. Anything else?_

_J: I actualy think that about covers it._

* * *

The next morning, Sarah logged back into the discussion board and found four replies waiting. Each one felt like a surprise, but the last one was definitely the biggest:

_K: Welcome, Jake’s sister Sarah from Lima. Call me Katie. Last year I went to Carmel in Akron, but I'm taking off a year to be homeschooled. I'm hoping next year I'll be back, and back in Vocal Adrenaline. Your brother’s private dance teacher is our dance teacher at school, Mr. Grey. Glad to have another girl to talk to!_

_R1: yo it’s ry from dayton, the original R before ricky joined, keeping it real. I’m hedding to football practis._

_R2: Hi, Sarah, I’m Ricky from Columbus, and as Ry said, I’m the newest addition to Holly’s group. I can only speak for me, but I think you’re going to like having a place like this._

_M: I’m so excited you’re here, Sarah! Jake told me you were coming and we realized I already know you at school! Except here my name’s Mar and I like neutral pronouns they, them. I hope that’s not going to be too weird._

* * *

Sarah went right up to Marley Rose at school. She looked startled to be approached like that, which wasn’t surprising, since Sarah usually tried to avoid Marley.

“Hi?” said Marley.

“ _You?”_ Sarah demanded. “On Holly’s discussion board?”

“I — I really didn’t know Jake was your brother,” Marley protested. “We’ve known each other forever through Holly. I had _no_ idea you were the Sarah he was talking about.”

“No, I’m not blaming you. I mean… jeez.” Sarah slumped against the wall. “I’m not mad or anything.”

Marley closed her locker, watching her carefully. “You don’t think it’s going to be weird?”

“ _Sure,_ it is.” Then, at Marley’s crestfallen expression, she added, “But weird isn’t bad. I can adjust. So you’re telling me you’re not actually the super-cheerful obnoxious girl you pretend to be?”

“Well,” Marley said, shrugging. “I’m still all those things. Except for the, um. The girl part, not so much.”

“Yeah, you said. Neutral pronouns. So you want me to call you Mar at school? Use they, them?”

“No,” Marley said immediately. “No, just… treat me the same. At school, I’m Marley.”

Sarah made a face at her. “How can you _do_ that? Be somebody you don’t want to be all day?”

“I think most people do that, Sarah.” She took Sarah by the arm and drew her close, close enough that Sarah could see her lip gloss. “Look… school is already complicated and confusing and… and I don’t want to have to work any harder than I already have to to fit in. And don’t ask me why I need to fit in, because that’s even _more_ complicated and confusing. But I could use a friend who knows who I really am. Somebody I can trust. Are you going to be that person? Or should I keep looking?”

“You can trust me.” Sarah raised a skeptical eyebrow. “But you can still keep looking for others, too. I’m not the only nonjudgmental girl in eighth grade.”

“I actually think you might be,” said Marley. Then she smiled and let out a long breath. “Well, that’s a load off my mind.”

Sarah’s raised eyebrow was joined by the second. “Just like that? You trust me?”

“I will until you give me a reason not to.” Marley resumed her walk down the hallway, and almost against her will, Sarah joined her, watching her suspiciously.

“You want some equally heavy ammo to use against me?”

Marley laughed. “No. I’m not interested in those kind of games.”

“All my dirt is about my brothers, anyway. And I guess if we’re going to talk on Holly’s board thing, you’ll learn it all eventually.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Marley paused outside her classroom. “Do you hug?”

Sarah paused, thinking it over. “I think the answer is _not yet_ if I’m taking this long to decide.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “Bye, Sarah.”

* * *

Puck had learned to wake up immediately to the sound of Sarah’s voice a long time ago. After Beth was born, he learned to wake up immediately, any time she took that first hitching breath, before it had a chance to turn into a full-fledged cry. Recently, he’d learned to wake up to the vibration of his cell phone on mute, because what if Shelby had an emergency in the middle of the night? It was more annoying than useful, because sometimes he’d end up waking up to stupid texts or calls instead, but once he’d learned how to do it, it seemed he couldn’t un-learn it.

Luckily, nobody else in the house woke up to vibrating cell phones. He kept his phone under his pillow when he slept away, and on the nightstand by his bed when he was home. Kurt didn’t even move when he got the text from his dad.

 _I have a surprise for_ you, said the text. _You awake?_

He kind of wanted to be an asshole about it and say, _Dude, I am now,_ but he just said _Yeah?_

_Meet me at that 24-hour donut place on Elida. Bring your guitar._

His dad had a long history of doing weird-ass stunts, so this felt familiar. Puck sat up, rubbing his face. Kurt stirred beside him, one arm sliding across the sheets to touch his leg.

“Ev’rything okay?” Kurt murmured.

Puck leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Fine. Just something with my dad. Go back to sleep.”

That was no problem. Kurt hadn’t really woken up anyway. Puck texted back, _On my way._

He got dressed in the dark, pulling on his jeans and hunting for his socks under the bed. The house remained quiet as he made his way down the back staircase and into the garage. The drive was brief, and he sang loudly to Adam’s CD to wake himself up.

When he arrived at Pat’s Donuts & Kreme, his dad’s truck was parked beside the entrance and his dad was standing at the counter. His dad looked up and smiled at Puck, handing the girl behind the counter a five and taking the cup of coffee and bag of donuts.

“You up for a road trip?” his dad asked him.

Puck looked around them, at the dark parking lot. “When? You mean...  _now?”_

“I mean _right_ now,” his dad said, his smile growing. “I just got a call from the Adventure Camp folks in Oregon. They have an opening for the October weekend. _This_ weekend. If we leave tonight, we’d just make it in time for welcome. I’ve got everything in the truck you need. What do you say?”

Puck looked out the plate-glass window onto the dark road, leading back home. “I should call home.” _Call Finn_ is what he meant, but he wouldn’t say it in front of his dad. “Burt. I don’t want to stress him out.”

“Oh, Burt already knows,” his dad said, surprising him. “I talked to him about it last week after he got released from the hospital. Sounded like he wasn’t sure about the idea of you missing a couple days of school, but I talked him into it. And I could call the school on the way out of town. You said Shelby would keep Beth on the weekend if you needed that.”

He nodded. “Yeah, she said that would be okay.” Shelby was never happy giving up Beth, any more than he was himself. “I really think I should —“

“Hey, you brought it.” He patted Puck’s guitar case with a pleased smile. “Mine’s behind the seat. Been a while since we played together.”

That was definitely true. Puck wasn’t sure he could remember the last time they’d done that, actually. Before his dad had moved out, at least. He felt a wave of longing — and for once, it wasn’t the kind of longing he was being told he shouldn’t have. He grasped for it.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, and shook his dad’s hand. “Yes. I’m in. What the hell.”


	19. Three Years Old: 1996

_Ruth hastily put out her cigarette when she saw Timmy standing in the hallway and rubbing his eyes._

_“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Did you have another nightmare?”_

_“Noah’s talking in his sleep again,” he muttered. “I can’t sleep. Can I watch TV with you?”_

_She sighed, looking up at the clock. It was already almost midnight. But she patted the couch next to her. “Just for a little while.”_

_Timmy sat cross-legged beside her, furrowing his brow at the jokes on Saturday Night Live. He listened to the David Bowie performance, though, paying attention to every move the singer made._

_“That singer is the Goblin King in the Labyrinth movie,” said Ruth. Timmy’s eyes got big._

_“No way.”_

_“Way. I used to want to be the girl in that movie. Sarah? I always liked that name.” She pulled the sleeve of Timmy’s pajama shirt down. He promptly squashed it back up around his elbow. “What was Noah talking about in his sleep?”_

_“I don’t know. It didn’t make any sense. He was crying about something but I couldn’t tell what.”_

_Ruth would probably have asked more questions, but the door banged open. She could hear loud whispering and giggling at the foot of the stairs. She frowned._

_“Timmy, go back to bed,” she said._

_“But I don’t want to —“ he began, then paused when he heard Aaron’s too-loud voice, slurring._

_“It’s the middle of the fucking night! What kind of a mother lets her kids stay up this late?”_

_“Go on,” she urged, and this time, Timmy scrambled down from the couch and ran back to his bedroom. The door shut behind him._

_A moment later, Aaron’s face emerged, coming up the staircase and flanked by two laughing young women. They were all carrying bottles of beer._

_“What kind of a father lets his whores get caught with open alcohol in the car?” she retorted. When he gave her the finger, she gave it right back._

_“Who’s she?” asked one of the girls. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen._

_“My old lady,” Aaron said, looking her up and down and giving her a signature leer. “You’re gonna have to decide if we’re gonna make her sleep with the kids or invite her into bed with us.”_

_“Fuck you.” Ruth stood up, pointing toward the couch. “That’s where you get to sleep. Or whatever you’re going to do. Just make sure your joints and empties are cleaned up before the kids get up tomorrow. And use a fucking condom, all right?” To the girls, she said, “He’s got crabs. And herpes. Terrible case, you really don’t want to see.”_

_“I don’t, babes, honest,” he was saying in his most sincere voice._

_She shut the door to Timmy and Noah’s room. Even if she could have had the bedroom to herself, she wasn’t about to leave her boys alone to sleep in a house with unfamiliar people._

_“Ma?” Timmy asked, sounding worried._

_“It’s fine,” she said aloud. “Go back to sleep.”_

_Noah was still crying in his dreams, thrashing periodically on his big-boy mattress. When Ruth crept into bed beside him, he woke up._

_“I can’t see him,” he sniffled. Already his cries were softer, but his expression in the dim room was wretched. “He's all by himself.”_

_“Shh,” she hushed. “You’ll see him in the morning.” Whoever he was, it didn’t matter._

_Aaron was attempting to serenade his two guests while high on whatever it was he’d taken. For a few minutes while she hummed and Noah settled down, she considered calling her brother and having him pick them up to crash at his place, but she didn’t really want to remind Samuel exactly how dysfunctional her marriage really was. He already disliked Aaron enough as it was. Besides, he had enough to worry about with his partner being sick. She and her boys could tolerate another night like this._


	20. Duets, Part 1

On Wednesday, Kurt woke up to an empty bed and the absence of delicious smells. He didn’t think much about it until he was showered and downstairs in the kitchen, and realized Sarah was only now pulling milk and eggs out of the fridge and onto the counter.

“Noah owes me one,” she grumbled. “This was not how I’d planned to spend this morning.”

“I can help,” Kurt offered. He got the big ceramic bowl out from the cupboard and a whisk from the container by the stove. “Did he leave early?”

“I have no idea, but he’s obviously not _here.”_

Kurt sighed and took a moment to text Puck a _Where are you?_ There was no response, but he didn’t really expect one.

“I’ll talk to him at school. You know he’s been under a lot of stress.”

She gave him a sour look. “Since when do you make excuses for him?”

“Hey, did Noah say something about leaving early today?” he asked Finn when he came downstairs.Finn shook his head.

Ten minutes later, Carole joined them at the dinner table, holding an envelope with a worried expression. “Kids… you’d better take a look at this before I talk to Burt. I found this taped to the front door.”

Finn unfolded the note inside and began to read:

_Dear everyone,  
_ _I had this opportunity to go on vacation in Oregon with my dad. I think it’s going to be good for me. It’ll take a couple weeks in addition to travel, so I’ll be gone a while. Shelby’s going to take care of Beth. You don’t have to worry about me, but I’ll be out of touch, no cell phones or Internet. I’ll miss you.  
_ _Love,  
_ _Puck (Noah)_

“A couple _weeks?”_ he said, raising his eyebrows. “What the hell? Did you know anything about this?”

“His father spoke to us about him going on a retreat with his synagogue, but we didn’t have any solid plans. So no messages from him, no texts? I didn’t call him yet, or Aaron.”

Kurt clutched the note in his hands, shaking his head as he read it over again. “Carole, Noah didn’t write that.”

“It does look like his handwriting, Kurt…” she began, but Kurt shook his head again, more vehemently.

“No. I mean — yes, that’s his handwriting, but — he doesn’t know how to spell half of those words. Somebody else must have told him what to write.”

Finn gave him an incredulous look. “Really? You think Puck would let anybody _make_ him write anything?”

“What’s going on?” Sarah grabbed the letter and read it, but she just shrugged and handed it back to Carole. “Sounds like my dad. He’s the king of spontaneous. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sarah, I don’t know where your brother is or what he’s doing!” Carole protested. “Of course I’m going to worry.”

“He’s freaking out and taking off, just like before,” Finn said. He pushed his plate of eggs away in disgust. “I should have expected this, with the way he’s been avoiding all of us.”

“No,” said Kurt. “He promised me, just a few days ago. He _promised_ me he wouldn’t run away. That’s not what’s happening.”

Carole put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “All right, everybody, there’s no sense in getting worked up over something when we don’t have all the facts. I’ll make some phone calls today and figure it out. Don’t bother your father with this, Kurt, do you understand? He doesn’t need more stress. I’ll talk to him.”

Finn drove to school with Kurt. He looked as unsettled by the situation as Kurt felt.

“I didn’t notice,” said Finn. “If he was getting ready to run. I haven’t been paying very close attention to him. Did he tell you about this retreat thing?”

“No, but I bet he wouldn’t, not if it was organized by his dad’s synagogue. He knew I didn’t like how much time he was spending there.”

Finn shifted in his seat. “I don’t know, Kurt. I kind of think they’ve been getting him to be _more_ responsible, not less.”

Kurt looked at him in horror. “You’re taking their side?”

“Whose side are you talking about? Kurt, we have no idea what’s going on. I’m with Sarah. We should be doing something.”

“I don’t know if there’s anything we _can_ do other than wait.”

“More waiting.” Finn’s brow was set in a hard line. “This sucks.”

Kurt tightened his hands on the steering wheel, hunching forward in frustration. “I hate being out of control. No phone, no Internet with Noah, for a few weeks? It’s just as bad as it is with Blaine.”

“At least with Blaine we know where he is.”

“I talked to Dave about going to see him. Last week, in the hospital.” Finn looked up quickly, but Kurt shook his head. “He said no. I didn’t really expect anything else. But he did suggest we try Santana. She’s his oldest friend. She’d be able to tell if anything was really off.”

“Yeah, I guess she is? Like you and Britt were friends growing up. That’s so weird.” Finn shrugged halfheartedly. “I can talk to her.”

“So what do we do today?”

“I think we just pretend everything is normal until we know more.”

It was clearly a wholly unsatisfying decision, but Kurt couldn’t see any other way around it. He parked the car, then took Finn’s hand and squeezed it.

“At the beginning of the year, I sent Blaine texts saying _courage_ in the middle of the day, to help him feel better about going back to school.”

That made Finn smile. “Yeah, he probably loved that. It’s not exactly what I need in the middle of the day, though.”

“What do you —“ Kurt choked off the question at Finn’s smoldering look. “Oh. Uh.”

Finn leaned over to claim a kiss from him, one that was longer and hotter than was probably appropriate for the school parking lot, but Kurt wasn’t objecting. He heard himself make several squeaky noises into Finn’s mouth.

“Yeah.”

They pulled apart, looking at each other with expressions that were now more evenly matched.

“Maybe we could meet upstairs for a date before fifth period, like we used to?" Kurt said breathlessly. "Would that be too hard, without Noah?”

“That would be awesome,” Finn said with a sigh. “And, yeah, hard, but... worth it, I think.”

* * *

Pretending turned out to be harder than Finn had anticipated when he got a text from his mother in the middle of the morning.

_1 text - Carole Hudson  
_ _9:16 AM: All I’ve uncovered are more questions, Finn. I’m making calls this morning and I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything. Hang in there._

Finn decided it wouldn’t hurt to ask a few questions himself. He started in the office, but Figgins’ new secretary wouldn’t tell him more than, "Noah Puckerman is absent today."

He used Puck’s locker combination to ransack Puck’s things between classes. Under a completely disgusting pair of old sneakers and his untouched American government textbook, he found a brochure for Adventure Camp in Terrebonne, Oregon. He tucked it into his backpack to show to Kurt later.

Coach Beiste was as irritated as he was by Puck’s unexplained departure. “Now I’m going to have to reorganize all our plays,” she said, glaring at nothing in particular. “Clearly we need to work on his commitment to the team.”

Finally, Finn sucked up his discomfort and went to talk to Ms. Pillsbury. She made a strange face when she saw him at her door, and beckoned for him to come in.

“Finn, what’s happening with Noah?” she asked.

“I was coming to ask you the same thing.” He explained the letter they’d found that morning and his mom’s text. Ms. Pillsbury listened with a mounting expression of worry.

“Well, I only know that Principal Figgins has been on the phone with somebody for the last twenty minutes. Earlier, he left me a note saying he wanted to talk to me about Noah, but not what it was about.”

“I guess I could call Shelby? He said she was going to take care of Beth. He wouldn’t leave town without telling her where he was going to be.” Even as he said it, he wondered if that were true.

“You should go to class, Finn. There’s nothing you can do right now. I’ll come find you and Kurt if we learn anything.”

The longer the day went on without answers, the more convinced Finn became that he had done something seriously wrong to provoke Puck into leaving. He was so distracted that he walked right by Karofsky and Azimio catcalling Rachel in the hallway without responding.

“I can’t believe you!” she exclaimed, running after him in annoyance. “I thought we’d agreed to stand up for one another?”

“I’m sorry, Rach,” he sighed. He paused in the hall and hugged her with one arm. “I’m having a hard day. I wasn’t paying attention.”

She was immediately smiling again. “You know, I’m sorry, too. It’s easy to forget I don’t need to be so sensitive. After all, you believe in me. And you apologize when you’re wrong. That’s really important.”

For once, Finn was glad Rachel hadn’t asked what was bothering him. He took out his phone every chance he got to check his messages, but there were no texts or calls. More than once, he had the urge to text Carl, but he didn’t really want to bother him in the middle of the day.

On his way up to the attic, he heard Dave call in a belligerent voice, “Hey, Hudson.”

He steeled himself and turned to face him. “What.”

Dave drew up close to him, glaring at him. Then, in an undertone, he asked, “What’s going on?”

Finn maintained his annoyed expression, but he didn’t hesitate to respond. Whatever had happened to make him trust Dave Karofsky, he wasn’t exactly sure, but apparently he did. “Puck’s gone. We’re trying to figure out what’s up, but nobody has any answers.”

Dave flickered his eyes at the staircase behind Finn, the one that nobody used other than them. “Kurt up there?”

Now he did hesitate. _This was supposed to be our date,_ he whined to himself. But he nodded.

Dave pushed past him, giving him a good visible shoulder-check in the process, and headed up the stairs. Finn leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and letting out a very real sigh.

“This is so _stupid.”_

“Of all the things in the world that are stupid, I’m sure I couldn’t guess which one you’re talking about.”

He opened his eyes to see Lauren beside him on the wall. She held what looked like a book wrapped in a sweater with a button on the end.

“Did your book get cold?” he said, nodding at the package.

She looked puzzled, then smirked, unbuttoning the sweater to slide a laptop out the end. “Felted laptop sleeve,” she said. “Sarah made it for me. It’s the next big thing, you should ask her for one.”

“I don’t have a laptop.”

“No idea how you keep up with all your people without one?”

He swallowed, willing himself to keep it together. Of all the occasions to begin crying in the hallway at school, in the middle of a conversation with Lauren Zizes was one of the least convenient.

“I seem to be down to three,” he said, as steadily as he could. _Maybe two._

He felt a gentle warm pressure on his shoulder. Lauren was leaning against him.

“That sucks,” she said, way more kindly than he’d expected.

He attempted a smile. “Hey, that’s more than most people have.”

“Does not diminish the suck. Although your existing people might be able to distract you sufficiently to make it a little better. Speaking of, I haven’t seen your hot subby friend around today?”

“Yeah, he’s… we don’t really know where he is,” Finn admitted. “That’s supposed to be a secret, by the way. I’m doing a crappy job of keeping it.”

She gave him a chiding look that reminded him distinctly of Irene — which made sense, in a way, considering Irene was Lauren’s mentor. “I hope you know me well enough to know I don’t tell people shit.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Supposedly he’s out west on a retreat. I guess at this place in Oregon called Adventure Camp, run by his dad’s church. Synagogue, whatever. He’s with his dad.”

Lauren frowned. “This is the asshole who drank a lot and beat up on them when they were kids? Yeah, Sarah tells me stuff. You think he’s worth trusting?”

“Puck seems to think so. He’s been spending a lot of time with him.”

“You get to disagree. In fact, from what I understand about your relationship, I would say you specifically should lay down the law if you disagree.”

Finn shook his head. “We’ve had trouble with that in the past. I try not to control his actions anymore.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But yeah, if he’s not calling back, you don’t really have much else you can do. He’s not going anywhere, though. I mean, not for good. He has a daughter.”

Finn thought about that, nodding. It actually did calm him to remember that Puck had a reason to come back, other than himself and Kurt. “Yeah, good point.”

He decided Dave and Kurt had had enough time to talk. Lauren didn’t appear to be offended when he walked away with little more than a distracted nod. He wasn’t thinking much about others at the moment. It didn’t occur to him, for example, that he might consider knocking before entering the attic room.

Kurt was crying quietly by the window, and Dave was standing beside him. He wasn’t even touching Kurt, but as soon as the door opened, he leapt back with a look of startled panic.

“Oh — hey, sorry,” said Finn, pausing in the doorway. Red-faced Dave wasn’t making eye contact with him, so he looked to Kurt. “I can go?”

“No,” said Kurt, sniffing, and wiped his eyes. “I’m okay. I should know better than to try to talk about Noah when things are so uncertain.”

“I’m just saying —“

“It’s fine,” Dave cut in roughly. He looked like he was going to take off any moment.

Given the choice to keep Dave there or give him an out, Finn would normally have chosen the latter. But his conversation with Lauren was on his mind. He wasn’t at all sure he’d made the right decision with Puck, and the last thing he wanted was another person running out on Kurt. So he came into the room and closed the door behind him.

Dave stood where he was and stared past him at the handle of the door, his breathing a little uneven.

“It’s fine,” Finn echoed, keeping his voice very quiet. He waited until Dave shifted his balance, and said it again. “It’s fine.”

Dave paused, then looked up at him and nodded. They both relaxed a fraction.

“I was thinking,” Finn went on, still speaking calmly and quietly, “doesn’t Puck’s phone have a tracker thingie in it?”

“A GPS chip,” said Kurt, looking up with hope. “Right? Does that work if the phone is turned off?”

“The police should be able to triangulate the location unless he took the battery out,” said Dave. 

“But why would the police agree to trace his phone at all?” Finn shook his head. “He’s with his dad. His legal, actual dad. I doubt anybody’s going to care that he took Puck out of school for a couple weeks.”

“I guess you could try.”

Finn unzipped his backpack and got out the flyer for Adventure Camp. He handed it to Kurt. “I found this in Puck’s locker.”

“Yes, he said Oregon.” Kurt skimmed it quickly, then a second time more thoroughly.

Dave gestured at the door, eyeing Finn, who was still standing in his way. “I’ve got to get to calculus.”

“Yeah, we’d better go, too.” Kurt went over and opened the door, letting Dave go first. Once he disappeared around the corner of the stairwell, Finn put a hand on Kurt’s arm.

“Sorry to screw that up.”

Kurt shrugged. “It’s not up to you to change who we are to suit him. I’m not going to coddle him, no matter how skittish he is about having me as a friend. He can deal with us as we are, Finn, and part of that means we get our own space to do things the way we want to do them.”

He let the door fall shut. Then he moved his body in close against Finn’s, edging him up against the wall and kissing him full on the mouth. Finn made a surprised noise, but he kissed Kurt right back. They paused after a few moments, but neither one moved away.

“We really do have to get going if we don’t want to be tardy,” said Finn.

“I know,” said Kurt.

This time when he kissed Finn, Kurt slid his hands under Finn’s shirt, finding his nipples with his thumbs. Finn chuckled.

“So we’re not going to Glee?”

“We can be a minute late.” His hands had made it to Finn’s back and were heading lower.

“After school.”

“You have football.” It wasn’t a whiny voice, just matter-of-fact. He gripped Finn’s ass and pulled their hips together. “We have seven minutes before the bell. We can do a lot in seven minutes.”

Finn gathered up Kurt’s hands and drew them out of his clothes, kissing them one at a time. “Not if we’re going to do the things I want to do. That’s going to take a lot more than seven minutes. After football. After dinner.”

Kurt sighed. “Promise?”

“You’re going to have to trust me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Apparently, Finn and Kurt shouldn’t have worried, because when they got to the choir room, Mr. Schue still hadn’t arrived. They’d also apparently managed to keep Puck’s situation an actual secret for the entire day, because nobody said anything to them other than, “So where’s Puckerman?”

“I don’t know,” Finn said, which was the truth. He left Kurt to sit in the back with Mercedes and settled next to Rachel in the front row.

They didn’t have to wait long. Mr. Schue arrived, looking worried.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I was with Principal Figgins. Bad news, guys. Puckerman’s in juvie.”

There was a stunned silence.

“What did he do?” Quinn demanded.

Mr. Schue sighed. “He drove his dad’s truck through the front of a convenience store and drove off with the ATM.”

Finn sat there with his mouth open amid a chorus of derisive commentary. He turned to look at Kurt, who shook his head in confusion, because _this_ scenario was even less likely than Puck taking off for a couple of weeks with his dad.

“Guys!” called Mr. Schue. “Let’s have some sympathy. He just lost his mom, and he’s trying to raise a kid on his own.”

“His choice,” Quinn muttered. “Obviously he can’t even manage that without screwing up.”

Rachel turned around and faced Kurt. “And when is he getting out?”

“Unknown,” Kurt managed.

She huffed her annoyance. “And you guys were furious at _me_ for putting my needs before the team’s. We need his voice, and his… his bad-boy stage presence!”

Finn could barely focus on the rest of class, smiling in a vague sort of way as Mr. Schue introduced Sam Evans as their newest member and lectured them about duets. All he could think about was Puck. _Why would he have taken off alone if it wasn’t to get away from something?_

Before he knew it, Rachel was facing him, talking a mile a minute.

“Okay, I have some ideas, but I want to make sure you’re part of this decision. After all, great duets are like a great marriage. The singers complement each other, push each other to be better. Don’t you think so?”

“I — yeah, of course. What?” He turned his head to see Kurt talking quietly to Mercedes. Rachel patted his cheek to get him to refocus on her.

“The duet competition. What do _you_ think we should sing?”

He got to his feet. “I’m sorry, Rach, I can’t think about this right now. I have to — there’s football practice.”

“Finn, Glee isn’t over for another twenty minutes!” she called, but he was already out the door, digging for his phone.

Kurt came through the door to join him a few moments later, but Finn held out a hand, waiting for his mom to pick up.

“Just — don’t say anything yet. Either my mom will know something, or we can tell her about what Mr. Schue said.”

Kurt clutched his arms to his own sides, pacing along the empty hallway. “I can’t believe this. There’s no way he actually stole an ATM, Finn!”

He sighed in exasperation as his mom’s phone went to voice mail. “She must still be on the phone. I’ll text her.”

“Guys?” Mr. Schue appeared in the choir room doorway. His own concerned expression wasn’t at all reassuring. “Can I… do you need anything?”

“A little clarity,” Kurt muttered. Then, louder, he said, “No, thanks. Is it okay if we deal with this?”

“Are you telling me this was a surprise to you, too?”

“Mr. Schue, _please,”_ Kurt snapped. “I don’t know _what_ to tell you yet.”

Mr. Schue looked a little taken aback, but he just nodded and withdrew, closing the door behind him. Finn beckoned for Kurt to follow him.

“Ms. Pillsbury. She’s on our side and she knows the most, and she’ll have connections. She can talk to the police.”

She was already on the phone when they arrived at her office, but she let them in immediately, finishing her call in an undertone. Kurt leapt in as soon as she hung up.

“Tell me Noah isn’t really in juvenile detention, Ms. Pillsbury.”

“From what we can tell, no,” she said. “That report came from another source, but so far, we have not been able to find any evidence he’s being held in any facility in Allen County.”

“Another source? You mean —“

“I mean I can’t tell you,” she said gently. “You’re not legally entitled to know.”

Kurt looked like he might be about to cry, or possibly scream at her. Finn glanced behind them through the big glass window that led to the hallway to confirm they were alone before grasping Kurt’s knee and holding it firmly. That seemed to calm him down.

He took a deep breath.“What _can_ you tell us?”

“Probably no more than you already know, Finn. I’m sorry.” She really did look sorry. “We don’t know anything about an ATM theft in the area. I’m in contact with Noah and Sarah’s case worker, Julia, and the local police. I just spoke with Shelby Corcoran. She said Noah mentioned an adventure camp last week, but he didn’t tell her dates or anything more than that. She’ll keep Beth with her until Noah returns.”

Finn took the brochure out of his bag and handed it over to Ms. P. “This was in his locker.”

She looked it over, her face brightening. “This will help. Thank you, Finn.”

Even in the midst of the confusion over Puck, Finn couldn’t help but think how weird it was to be sitting across the desk from Carl’s girlfriend. He felt a wave of envy. _She gets to go home to him._

Football practice was equally weird, with everyone complaining about Puck’s absence. Nobody had much of a filter in football, but for once, Finn didn’t feel like he had the right to tell them not to talk like that.

When they took a break, Coach Beiste paused beside him at the water cooler and said, “You want to go home early?”

“I don’t know,” Finn said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Sounds like you need a visit to the dentist.”

He spluttered on his cup of water, coughing. “Coach!” he protested.

“Hey, I know what it looks like when a kid needs somebody to make decisions for him.” She gave him a meaningful nod. “You know he would handle it.”

“I can’t.” Finn looked around the field nervously, lowering his voice. “He’s not doing that for me right now.”

“ _That’s_ pretty obvious,” she said sourly. “You want to be a good leader, Finn, you need to take good care of yourself first.”

“I know, but it’s not as simple as that. I can’t have what I want, and —“ He paused as Sam came over to the cooler, filling up his water bottle.

“What, just because you can’t have what you want, you don’t take what you can have?” She crossed her arms with a disapproving frown. “Sounds pretty selfish to me. Especially when it’s not all about you. You give everything you can to take care of the people you’re responsible for. Sometimes that means doing hard things.” She put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam knows all about that.”

Sam looked a little startled to be named. He glanced over at Finn, then anxiously back at her. “Uh, Coach, _he_ doesn’t —“

“Yeah, he does. Finn gets it.” She looked at both of them and grinned. “I’m not going to out either of you. Just know you’ve got some things in common. Maybe you should sit down and talk.”

Finn and Sam stared at each other, then looked back at Beiste, who was still grinning.

“Okay?” said Sam. He shrugged. “Good to know.”

Finn wasn’t at all sure that exchange hadn’t counted as “outing,” but he tried to put it out of his mind as they finished practice. As though he needed _more_ things on his mind.

He did mention it to Kurt when he got home as they helped Sarah put dinner together.

“I think that Sam might be playing for our team,” he said. “Not football.”

“I do know what that means, Finn,” Sarah called, ladling sauce over the lasagna noodles. “You can just say _he’s gay.”_

“Well, I don’t know if that’s exactly right. I just know that Coach Beiste said we have some things in common.”

Kurt nodded to himself. “I knew that hair had to be a sign. Straight boys don’t bleach their hair. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Burt had been banished to the couch with strict instructions not to come in the kitchen. They brought the food out to him on tray tables, setting up in front of the couch, and told Burt what little they’d discovered about Puck’s whereabouts while they ate.

“Seems like there’s not much to do,” said Burt with a sigh. “I mean, once we’re sure where he is, we just wait for him to come home. Beth’s taken care of. He’s gonna miss some school, but I think at this point, it’s not a crisis anymore.”

“Yeah,” Kurt said slowly. He looked up at Burt. “Except… he promised me, dad. He said he wouldn’t run away, for any reason.”

“This doesn’t seem much like running, Kurt. Don’t get me wrong, I wish he’d told us where he was gonna be and when, but it’ll be okay.” He shook his head. “The only thing that got to me was the juvie story. Why’d his dad bother with that? He could have just said, _I’m taking my son out of school for a few weeks._ I don’t think they would have been able to tell him no.”

“You’re trying to think with logic,” said Sarah. They all turned to look at her, calmly perched on the edge of the new tan couch, her leg swinging beneath her. “That’s not how my dad works. It’s not how Noah works, either. They’ve both got their own reasons for doing stuff. You can try to think like them, but I usually think it’s better not to try. Just trust they’ll be okay.”

“Parents aren’t all that logical, either,” Burt told her with a little tired smile. “It’s not that parents don’t trust their kids. We just worry about the least likely things, the stuff the kids won’t think about.”

“I think about everything,” Sarah said stoutly. Burt grinned, tugging on her arm until she slipped down off the edge and onto the couch beside him. He put an arm around her.

“You miss him?” he asked.

She shrugged, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Not yet. He’s gone all the time, anyway.”

“ _I_ miss him,” Kurt said. “Already.”

Finn could hear what he wasn’t saying. _I miss everyone._

They ate in gloomy silence. When his mom got home from work and joined them, she had little to offer that they didn’t already know.

“The school seemed to think he’d been arrested,” she said. “But the police didn’t know anything about that. I think his dad made it up as an excuse for not being at school.” She made a face. “Which sounds crazy. I called the Adventure Camp phone number and left a message on their machine. So that’s all we can do.”

Burt nodded. “I hope he has a good time.”

“At religious camp?” Kurt rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine.”

“It doesn’t have to be your idea of a good time, Kurt. This is for Puck.”

While his mom ate, Finn and Kurt did the dishes and cleaned up. Finn waited for Kurt to get to the point of being finished in the kitchen, the way Puck always did, but Kurt just moved from counter to counter, adjusting things, looking more and more agitated. Finally Finn went over and took his arm.

“We’re done here,” he said. “Come on.”

He led Kurt upstairs to his own room — Kurt always felt more comfortable surrounded by his things, sleeping on his own high thread-count sheets, under his own duvet — and gave him a little nudge into the bathroom.

“You’re not getting up once I’ve got you down. Do your skin stuff. Then you’re going to call Adam.”

Kurt obeyed immediately. That made Finn feel even worse for not following through on what Coach Beiste had told him to do, but just because he felt bad didn’t mean it wasn’t going to change anything. No matter how much he knew it would help, or how much he wanted to, he wasn’t going to call Carl.

Instead, he sat on the bed and looked at the brochure for Puck’s Adventure Camp. The photos did look pretty great, even better than the hiking trip he’d taken with Puck that summer. He wondered if they had arrived yet. It was a long drive to Oregon.

Kurt came out, towel-drying his hair, and sat at his vanity table, systematically opening each tub and tube of cream and laying them out in order. The shower hadn’t calmed him down much. He looked longingly at the copy of _The Golden Mean_ on his nightstand.

“We didn’t finish the third book,” Kurt said. “We could have. It was here, all along, and… we didn’t. I don’t know why we didn’t.”

“It didn’t feel important?” Finn moved to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “We can do it when he gets back. It won’t be forever.”

“I know. It’s not a crisis. It just feels like one.” He set the tub of cream down on the table and sighed. “Why did he leave without calling? Just one call.”

“He didn’t call when he went to Santa Fe, either.”

“But that letter? That wasn’t Noah, Finn. He doesn’t say those things. _I had this opportunity…?_ ”

“So his dad helped him. That’s good, right, that he’s letting his dad help?”

Kurt’s head bowed, and his arms slid around himself to hold his elbows. Finn quickly shifted to kneel behind him, holding him tight in his arms as he started crying.

“It’s _not_ good,” he said between sobs. “I can’t tell you why it’s not, but it’s not. He feels as gone as — as — “

“As Blaine,” Finn whispered. Kurt hunched in further on himself, nodding, and Finn nodded too. “Yeah. I know what you mean. Can you leave the face stuff until tomorrow?”

“No, I have to finish it.” Gradually Kurt unfolded himself, sniffing, and blew his nose before resuming his routine. Finn knew better than to insist, but he did stay close, putting strong pressure on his shoulders.

“Blaine’s not gone forever, either.”

Kurt sounded bitter. “We don’t know that. Being apart, it can make people forget.”

“You know Blaine didn’t forget Puck, not for nine whole months. He’s not going to forget Puck now, or you.” _Or me. He’s part of me. Like other people._ “Come on. Let me help you with this.”

Kurt gave him the most offended look, but Finn just laughed and took the cream out of his hand, spreading a little on his nose. Kurt spluttered, waving him away.

“It doesn’t go on my _nose,_ Finn!”

“You’d think I’d know this stuff by now,” he said. Kurt frowned like he was trying not to smile.

“You _do_ know. You’re just trying to make me laugh. It won’t work.”

“Baby,” said Finn, as gently as he could, looking into his eyes. “Are you going to let me help?”

Kurt reclaimed the cream from Finn’s hand and took a deep breath. “I’ll do this part. When I’m done, you can help me in… other ways.”

“I’m glad I’m good at something.”

“You are,” Kurt said fervently. “You’re the best at a lot of things.”

“Puck does the foot rubs, and the cooking. I get to read with you, and… what else?”

“Make me think. And be my bed.”

Finn laughed out loud. “Be your _what?”_

“My — you know. You’re like a couch. Warm and comfortable beneath me.” Now Kurt was smiling. “You hold me up.”

“Huh.” He felt a warm bloom of pleasure inside at that thought. “I like that. You do that for me, too, you know. I love how we are together, you and me.”

Kurt nodded. “I have to say, it’s become clear to me that duets aren’t really my thing? But apparently you’re my exception.”

Finn felt the pleasure erupt onto his face in an astonished smile. “Baby…do you want to sing your duet with me?”

“I —“ Kurt stared back at him. His face under the cream was flushed. “Finn, we can’t. I mean, _yes,_ please, but… you know what my dad said about Sarah’s adoption. I already messed things up enough by outing Noah.”

“We could just do it for the people who know already, right? It doesn’t have to be for anybody else.” He squeezed Kurt’s shoulder. “All this hiding and pretending… it’s kind of getting to me. It would be nice to have something we could do that was about us.”

Kurt hesitated, but then he nodded carefully. “That would be even better than date night."

“We can have one of those, too.” _Now that my calendar is suddenly a lot less full._

They discussed possible duet numbers while Kurt finished his face care regimen. By the time Kurt dialed Adam’s number, he was already looking more settled.

“I think cuffs tonight,” said Finn, “and the suede flogger.”

Kurt’s grateful smile flashed up at him from under his damp bangs. “Yes, sir.”

He went back through the bathroom to his own room to give Kurt some privacy. Puck didn’t need it when he talked to Adam, but Kurt preferred it.

Even without having had sex or doing anything physical, Finn felt better. Kurt needed him. He could do things for Kurt that no one else could do. It occurred to him that maybe that was what Rachel needed from him, too — to know there were things about their relationship that were special.

 _But planning a duet with Kurt makes me feel better,_ he thought, brushing his teeth, _and planning one with Rachel makes me feel worse._ He wondered, if what he and Rachel had was musical chemistry, why that would be true.


	21. Puck at Adventure Camp: Prelude

The drive to Oregon was long, almost twice as long as the drive to Santa Fe had been, but it wasn’t the distance that made it challenging. It was the company. There were so many things Puck couldn’t talk about with his dad. Too many times, he would bite his tongue on a comment about Adam or Kurt. He could talk about cooking, but that led inevitably back to Burt and Carole, and his dad would get sullen and quiet again.

He found himself changing the radio station a lot, hunting for music to fill the silences. His dad sounded exactly the way he remembered from his childhood, a little lower and raspier than his own voice, but otherwise surprisingly similar. When they sang harmony together, his dad smiled, so clearly pleased and satisfied by what he was hearing that Puck thought he might never want to do anything else with his dad again.

“That’s real nice, Noah,” his dad said after they’d finished the Eagles’ “Already Gone.”

“When I came out here in November, to Santa Fe, I stopped at every coffee house I could find and sang,” he said. “Sometimes they fed me, but most of the time it was just… because I had to.”

“I know just how that is,” his dad said with feeling. “I spent a lot of years on the road between gigs. There wasn’t any high better than that stage.”

“You stopped, though.”

“It was complicated.”

“You could still do it.”

His dad made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Aw, I’m too old for that stuff now.”

Puck wanted to tell him about Carl, how he was even older than his dad and still sang with Finn and Blaine, but that conversation was bound to go places he couldn’t deal with. His relationship with Blaine was apparently now a thing of the past. He and Finn now had so much history that it was entirely possible conversations about him would start with _skateboarding when we were eleven_ and end with _handballing in Kurt’s bed._ And Adam… well, that was a whole realm of dangerous.

For the twentieth time, he regretted agreeing to let his dad put their phones away. On one hand, it made sense. As his dad had said, a retreat should involve a certain amount of separation from the ordinary world. If he were checking in with Finn and Kurt and Burt and Carole and Sarah and Adam the whole time, how much of a retreat would it be? But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but think about the agreements he’d made with Adam and Kurt to talk to them every night while they were apart. What about Burt and Carole? And _Lady Tess?_ Would they understand why he’d done this? On some level, he had an uneasy feeling he might be in a lot of trouble already, even if his dad had told them about his impending absence.

“Maybe I should call home,” he said when they stopped for lunch outside of Chicago.

His dad looked at him like he was crazy. “No way. Let me tell you something, Noah. You’re on the road now. And when you’re on the road, the regular rules don’t apply. You eat when you’re hungry, you sleep when you’re tired. You stop and look at the stars, and you don’t give a flying fuck about what the ordinary people are doing. They’re living the rat race, but you’ve escaped from all that.” He took a bite of his sandwich and beamed at Puck. “This is the way God intended for us to live.”

That actually sounded real good to Puck. He took a turn at the wheel while his dad took a nap in the passenger seat, wishing he had Adam’s CD with him. He had all the songs memorized anyway, so he just turned off the radio and sang the whole album to himself, starting with Music Again and ending with Time for Miracles.

By that time, his dad was stretching and yawning. “Who’zat?”

“Adam Lambert,” he said.

His dad nodded soberly, looking over at him. “Your musician. Your Ma never liked it when I would hook up with other musicians.”

Puck jerked his head to look at his dad, startled. “You —?”

“Everybody did it,” he said. “Nobody cared much about who was already hooked up. Lots of groupies, threesomes, orgies. It was a free-for-all. I had girls coming out of my ears.”

“Huh.” Puck shook his head in wonder. “Sounds familiar.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Santana calls me a sex shark. Like, if I stop moving, I die.”

“Santana. She’s your girlfriend?”

“No. I don’t really have a girlfriend.” He thought about Nicole and Daphne and Alex in Santa Fe. It had been months since they’d talked. “Finn has one, though.”

“He always seemed like a solid kid.” His dad shook his head. “I gotta say, I was surprised to find out the two of you were messing around.”

 _It’s not messing around,_ he wanted to say. _It’s the most important thing I’ve ever had._ He tried to think of something he could say that his dad would comprehend.

“He’s as important to me as God is,” he said.

Judging by his dad’s pained expression, he’d said the wrong thing. He didn’t bother to try to fix it; he just waited for his dad to offer something else. The truth wasn’t going to change.

“You know that’s wrong,” his dad said. “What you’re doing with Finn and Kurt.”

He was a little surprised that his dad remembered Kurt’s name. “I know.”

“You do? You know that?” His dad was watching him closely.

“Yeah, I know _you_ think so. I know Ethan and the rest of the guys think so. I know the Torah thinks so. Far as I know, Jesus doesn’t have anything to say about it.”

“That’s not —“ His dad scowled at him. “You know that’s not what people think.”

“I don’t give a shit what _people_ think,” he said. “I’m the one who gets to live with me.”

“It’s between you and God,” said his dad. “But you need to be sure you’re doing the right thing.”

Puck wasn’t sure how to tell his dad he had no way of determining whether he was or he wasn't. Not alone, without Finn and Kurt and Adam. He just shrugged.

They stopped for dinner in Iowa. Puck wanted to tell his dad about the last time he’d driven through Iowa, after weeks at Tessera with Beth and Adam. _Adam loves her like I do,_ he would say. _She’s my daughter, but she’s his little girl, too._ It seemed wrong, somehow, that his dad didn’t understand this, but he wasn’t sure he could find a way to make him understand.

They brought their guitars in with them to the hotel when they stopped for the night, east of Omaha. The two beds made him think about the hotel they’d had with Blaine, that first night Blaine had given in to his feelings for Finn. That had only been a month ago. It hadn’t been nearly enough time. But if he thought too much about Blaine, he was going to cry, and he didn’t want his dad to see that. His dad had always made it clear that crying was a weakness.

“I sang a Neil Diamond song in Glee club,” he said.

His dad was surprised again. “No shit.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “'Sweet Caroline,' for Rachel. She’s Finn’s girlfriend. I wanted to impress her.”

“You wanted to impress Finn’s girlfriend?”

He had to laugh. “Yeah, but it wasn’t about her at all. It was just, I wanted him to know I was noticing him. I wanted him to notice _me.”_

His dad got his guitar out of the case and nodded slowly. “I guess it worked?”

“Nah, I had to hit him in the face to get him to notice me.”

That made his dad laugh. “Okay? Maybe you should have sung _him_ a song.”

“I did that, too. That was later, though, after… after things were okay between us.”

When he came out of the bathroom, his dad was doing some warm-ups, up and down the fret board, tiny portions of songs that recalled a hundred moments of his childhood. He got his own guitar out of the case and tuned up while he listened to his father sing:

_Maybe it's been crazy  
_ _And maybe I'm to blame  
_ _But I put my heart above my head  
_ _We've been through it all  
_ _And you loved me just the same  
_ _And when you're not there  
_ _I just need to hear  
_ _Hello, my friend, hello  
_ _It's good to need you so  
_ _It's good to love you like I do  
_ _And to feel this way  
_ _When I hear you say, hello_

“You sound the same,” he told his dad. “The same as you did when I was little.”

“I’m not, though. I’m not the same guy I was back then.” His dad looked at him, his face solemn. “There’s so many things I regret about how it was with your Ma. We were both so messed up. But that didn’t mean we didn’t love you. All three of you.”

Puck didn’t have a response to that. He strummed the riff from _Cherry, Cherry,_ and they both started singing at the same time.

_No, we won't tell a soul where we gone to  
_ _Girl, we do whatever we want to  
_ _Ah, I love the way that you do me  
_ _Cherry, babe, you really get to me_

His dad led the music, mixing up Neil Diamond with a half-dozen other artists that Puck knew by heart. Puck sang along with every one, offering harmonies when appropriate. It was intoxicating. They were both laughing by the end of the set.

“That’s some sweet sound, Noah.” His dad gave him an admiring look. “You sing like that in your Glee club?”

“Sometimes. We do all kinds of music. Kurt —“ He paused, watching his dad warily, but he nodded for Puck to go on. “Kurt likes musical theater. Finn does 80s rock. Adam does everything from 70s to contemporary stuff.”

His dad nodded. “Meemee told me you went to see Gaga.”

That was a surprise, too, not only that his dad knew about Gaga, but that Timmy had talked to him about it. “Yeah, I did. She was a lot cooler than I expected.”

He went on strumming. “You sing to your guys?”

Puck nodded. It was weird to have his dad _asking_ about these things. He wasn’t sure if he should talk about it or not.

“When I… took off the first time,” he said hesitantly. “When Finn and I… when we had trouble. He listened to the Neil albums. But mostly we sing other stuff.”

His dad nodded at him. “Sing me one. One of the songs you guys sing together.”

It was the most challenging question he’d been asked all month. He didn’t really know what would come out when he put his hands on the strings, but his dad listened quietly, watching Puck's hands. By the second verse, he had it, and he was strumming along. By the third, he was harmonizing.

_Pain from pearls, hey little girl,  
_ _How much have you grown?  
_ _Pain from pearls, hey little girl,  
_ _Flowers for the ones you've known._

_Are you on fire,  
_ _From the years?  
_ _What would you give for your  
_ _Kid fears?_

They left out the Michael Stipe part, but Puck could hear Finn singing it in his head. It was Blaine’s song, the one he sang with Carl and Finn at the coffeehouse, but it was also one of the songs that had sustained Finn when he’d been gone. He wondered if Finn was listening to it now.

“I don’t want them to worry about me,” he said, knowing it sounded anxious. But his dad just shook his head, smiling.

“They won’t.” He clapped Puck on the shoulder. “You’re with your old man. I’m gonna take care of you.”

It might have been the music talking, but in that moment, Puck could almost believe him.


	22. Duets, Part 2

Finn slid into line behind Kurt in the cafeteria. He didn’t look happy.

“Did you ask Sam to sing a duet with you?”

Kurt glanced back at Finn. “Yes?”

Finn dropped his voice to a hurt whisper. “I thought _we_ were singing our duet together.”

“Just for us. Not for the competition. Don’t tell me you care about winning?”

“This isn’t about you winning.” He frowned. “Kurt, are you trying to get Sam to admit he’s gay because of what I said to you?”

“So what if I am?” He took a fruit cup, wrinkled his nose and put it back. “God, I’ve gotten so spoiled with Noah’s lunches…”

“You can’t do this to him!”

“You’re overreacting.”

“You’re painting a bull’s-eye on his back. If he sings with you —”

Kurt turned to face him. “What? Everybody will know he isn’t a total homophobe? He could sing with me even if he’s not gay. And if he is, it’s not like we’re making out in the middle of the hallway.”

Finn glanced behind him, but nobody was paying attention to them. “And if you win? Are you going to take him out on a date? Look, it’s _his_ decision. If he’d wanted to come out, he would have. You’re just reacting to what Coach Beiste said. Can’t you let him move at his own pace?”

“Noah’s still on the football team, and he’s still ridiculously popular. Your argument doesn’t stand, Finn.” Kurt made a brisk nod. “I asked Sam to sing with me. He said yes. If we win, I’ll let _him_ decide who to invite to Breadstix. And then we’ll see what we see.”

Finn watched glumly as Kurt took his nearly empty tray and flounced away to sit with Mercedes. Without Puck, lunch was now the worst part of his day. He scanned the cafeteria and found Santana and Brittany sitting with several other Cheerios.

“Well, if it isn’t tall, athletic and dopey,” Santana said. “You’re losing in the tall and athletic department lately, though. I think Sam’s taken your place.”

“Not everything has to be a competition, Santana.”

She hooted. “Are you _serious?_ Of course everything’s a competition. For example, isn’t that _Kurt_ sitting over there next to Sam? They’re getting awfully snuggly. Puck’s only been gone for, what, three days and already —“

“I need to ask you something,” he said. “About Blaine.”

Santana’s smile slipped. “Blaine — who?”

“How many Blaines do you know? Your best friend from when you were a kid. Blaine Anderson, formerly of Catholic, now at Dalton Academy, star of the Warblers?”

Now she was staring at him. “What the hell, Finn? How do you know all that? Are you, like, a secret agent spy or what?”

“When’s the last time you talked to him?”

“I don’t know, Christmas? We hardly ever see each other. He was busy this summer, doing some stupid play.”

“He did RENT in Cleveland. With Kurt, and Mr. Schue, and Toby.”

“Holy shit,” she breathed. She glanced back at Brittany. “Did you know about this?”

“Toby invited me and Mike to opening night,” Britt said, eating a tater tot. “You were on that cruise with your dad.”

“Well, dust my pants and call me a tortilla. What the fuck.” Santana looked back up at Finn. All the teasing was gone. “He and Kurt, I bet they’re buds now? I always thought they would get along.”

“Kind of. It’s a long story. Santana, Blaine is in some trouble.”

Her gaze sharpened. “What is it? Is somebody giving him shit about being gay? No, they don’t do that at his new enlightened school, do they?” He watched her face go white. “Is it the cocaine?”

“You know about that?” Finn said, his eyes widening.

“ _You_ know about that?” she echoed.

 _There’s not much I don’t know about Blaine._ He gave her a faint smile. “I don’t think you need to worry about him taking drugs anymore. But Blaine’s father gave him an ultimatum about some other things. He’s not allowed to see… anybody who means anything to him. No phone, no email. He’s alone, and he’s hurting. We need somebody to go to Dalton and visit. Somebody who _knows_ him, and who can tell if he’s doing what we think he’s doing.”

“And… what do you think he’s doing?” she asked slowly.

Finn stared down at his uneaten lunch. Kurt was right; cafeteria food just didn’t measure up to Puck’s. “He’s pretending to be fine. He’s doing only what he’s supposed to do, which is school and the Warblers. And he’s convinced himself not to fight for anything more.”

Her smile was wry. “Yeah, that sounds exactly like Blaine. He puts everything fun and enjoyable and worthwhile in a box labeled ‘Things I Can’t Have.’ And now he’s putting all his energy into school because that’s what his father _told_ him to do.”

Finn swallowed on a dry throat. “You think that sounds like him?”

“Absolutely. He listens to his father. In Blaine’s mind, if he’s not a _good boy,_ he’s nothing.”

The words hit Finn hard. He directed his eyes across the cafeteria, looking at anything other than Santana, while he tried to marshal his thoughts.

“Finn?” Santana sounded hesitant.

“Just a second,” he muttered. He cleared his throat. “Okay.”

“Blaine told me last year, he met a guy with a mohawk in a club in Dayton. Said he was some pretty hot shit. That was Puck, right?”

Finn nodded, willing his lip not to wobble. She sighed.

“Yeah. I thought so. You’re telling me they’ve been hooking up all year?”

“Just since June,” said Finn.

“And Kurt’s okay with this?” She sounded incredulous.

“He’s _so_ okay with this, Santana.” He touched her hand. “Will you go?”

“Why don’t _you_ go?” she demanded. “If he’s so important to Puck.”

“Because his dad won’t let him see me, either.”

“Blaine’s a dolphin, too,” said Brittany. “He’s _Finn’s_ dolphin.”

Santana’s eyes widened. “Oh my _fucking_ god.” She gave him a vicious poke in the chest. “You and _Blaine_ and _Puck?_ ”

“… And Kurt,” he added. “But his dad doesn’t know about Kurt, so he’s still safe. Will you?”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me about this already!”

“Santana,” Finn said.

“All right!” she snapped, throwing up her hands. “Fine. I’ll go. Road trip to Westerville, Britt, after school.”

He didn’t exactly feel any better having told Santana about Blaine’s situation, but he figured it was better than doing nothing. What he did feel was exhausted. When Rachel came to him and said, “Let’s go practice our duet,” all he could do was shake his head.

“Look,” he said to her, “I’m sure we could totally win this thing. I just don’t think I can do it right now. I can’t think about winning. I can barely concentrate on school.”

“Because of Puck?”

He nodded. She sighed, sinking down to sit in the seat beside him.

“I’m not really a nice person. I’m selfish. The fact is, I’m only really generous if there’s something in it for me.”

“Yeah, but I still like you.”

“But you, you’re so… kind, and open. Well, it’s made me want to be a better person.” She gave a decisive nod. “If we want to win at Nationals, then Sam has to win this contest. Okay? He has to feel like he belongs and, and the team has to believe in him.”

Finn scrunched up his face. “Uh… you mean, in order to make somebody feel like they belong, we have to lie to them about how good they are? How is that being kind or open?”

“No, that’s not what I…” She shook her head in desperation. “I was trying to help. I mean, I just wanted you to be impressed with me.”

“Rachel, you’re doing this because it’ll help us win Nationals, so it doesn’t really count as you doing something nice.” He touched her shoulder gently. “Would you stop trying to be somebody you’re not? You don’t have to try to impress me. I _already_ like you. And you don’t have to try to throw anything to benefit Sam. Let him win because he’s got a great voice. Which he does.”

“Okay,” she said, still startled, looking up into his face. “I— I’m sorry.”

He kissed her, smiling at her astonished expression. “Thank you.”

It was amazing how much better he felt after that. Just as he had last night, managing Kurt, it gave him a sense of being settled.

 _Coach Beiste was wrong,_ he thought defiantly. _I don’t need Carl. I need what I have - Kurt, and Rachel, just as they are._

* * *

“I really can make my own dinner, Kurt,” his dad called from the couch.

“Absolutely not.” Kurt carefully carried the tray table in from the kitchen and set it in front of his dad. “Sarah has delegated dinner to me while she’s meeting with Holly, and then we’re going to switch. Here you go: heart-healthy vegan carrot soup with whole grain croutons, and you’d better eat all of it. I’m so grateful Noah already had saffron in the cupboard.”

His dad looked longingly at the table. “Can’t I just sit over there? You could make a plaster cast of my butt with the cushions from this couch.”

Kurt frowned at him. “You had a serious arrhythmia, Dad. The doctors say you need to rest until your stress test.”

“Puckerman is my stress test,” he muttered, letting Kurt tuck a napkin into the collar of his shirt. “No news, huh?”

“Nothing. I’m waiting, just as you said, and trying to distract myself. Finn talked to Santana about Blaine. They’re old friends, and he asked her to visit him at Dalton to check on him.”

His dad took a sip of the soup and seemed to deem it acceptable. “Is that a problem?

Kurt sighed. “We asked Dave and he said no. He’s sure Blaine wouldn’t want to see him.”

“Maybe Dave has a point.”

Now he frowned. “You’re siding with him? Is it because — because of what he called Blaine at the park?”

“I don’t know anything about that, but I guess I’m not surprised to hear it. Dave hasn’t exactly had the best track record, has he? I think Blaine gets to decide if he doesn’t want to be friends with Dave anymore, if Dave was being a jerk to him.” He took another spoonful of soup. “And doesn’t Dave have kind of a thing for Blaine?”

“He used to. That might be ancient history by now.” Kurt shrugged. “Although I doubt it. Based on what I know about Dave, he doesn’t really let go of things.”

“Yeah.” His dad waved his spoon at Kurt. “You got to understand, Kurt, that most guys don’t know how to deal with their own feelings.”

He wrinkled his nose. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t expect Dave to show Blaine any concern because he’s feeling _too much_? He apologized to Blaine at _RENT_. I thought that meant something. Shouldn’t I expect him to step up and be an actual friend now?”

Burt sighed. “I’m not saying he shouldn’t. I’m saying, maybe you’re pushing him too hard to do what _you_ want him to do — trying to take advantage of him because he’s useful to you. You care about Dave’s feelings, too, right?”

“Of course I do,” snapped Kurt. “Dad, It wasn’t too long ago I was feeling stuck in my own closet. But he has me, and Noah, who came out first. We’re doing all right. Why can’t he enjoy that? He could, I don’t know, walk hand in hand down the hall with a person that he likes. He could slow dance at his prom.”

“Come here.” His dad reached out and gathered him close. “I’m sure he appreciates that you want those things for him. You just have to accept that maybe Dave’s not as open and brave as you are.”

“I don’t think that’s actually true, though,” said Kurt. “I’ve been getting to know him, Dad, and he’s really brave. I think he _wants_ to be like that.”

“Well,” his dad said gently, “maybe it’s that he really wants it _with Blaine,_ and if he can’t have that, it’s not worth it.”

It must have been the combination of his dad’s words and his snuggling that made him cry. They sat there together on the couch together until Sarah came downstairs and joined them.

“Your turn,” she said, snuggling up to his dad on the other side. “Holly’s waiting for you upstairs on the green couch.”

Kurt wiped his face and stood up. “Okay, but… honestly, I think I already got my therapy for the night.”

* * *

“This place is like a rat’s maze,” Santana snapped, threading her BMW into the parking spot outside Blaine’s dorm. “All these one-way streets? It’s like they don’t even want people to drive. They just want everyone to walk around in their fancy uniforms and pretend they’re in a GQ magazine ad.”

“I think it’s nice.” Britt surveyed the immaculate lawn. Rows of flowers were still blooming along the ivy-covered walls. “Maybe we could come here.”

“Boys only, Britt. Anyway, we’re totally in charge of McKinley. Why’d we want to leave?”

Brittany’s smile was placid. “Wouldn’t you like to be the only two girls at an all-boys’ school?”

“Point,” Santana admitted. “But no cheerleading. And, I hate to admit it, I’d miss Glee.”

She shrugged. “Lord Tubbington wouldn’t want to live in a dorm anyway.”

The boy at the desk opened a ledger and showed them where to sign in. “Visitors can stay until nine,” he said. “Who are you here to see?”

“Blaine Anderson.”

He pointed around the corner. “Third floor, room 308. Up the stairs and to the right.”

Nobody seemed surprised to see girls in the dorm, but they did get a lot of smiles. Santana would have enjoyed it more if she hadn’t already been worried about Blaine.

When they knocked, they were met at the door by a blond boy with a Bieber cut. He blinked at them, keeping the door mostly closed. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Blaine,” she said. “I’m an old friend. Is he here?”

“Santana? Is that you?” Blaine pulled the door the rest of the way open, and gave them both a broad, astonished smile. “Brittany! You didn’t tell me you were coming out to Westerville!”

“No, it was meant to be a surprise.” She hugged Blaine, then glared a challenge at the blond boy, who was still blocking the door. “Can we come in?”

Everything seemed normal from what Santana could tell, other than the ridiculous amount of gel on Blaine’s curls, but she wasn’t about to judge his fashion trends. The blond boy, however, whose name was Jeff, was watching them both warily as they talked about their classes and how junior year was going.

“It’s harder,” he said. “Academically, it’s a lot more challenging than Catholic. I’m trying to focus on school, but it’s not easy, not when I have boxing and the Warblers.”

“And a boyfriend?” Santana added brightly.

Jeff’s glare intensified. Blaine, on the other hand, just shook his head, dipping his eyes like he was laughing.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” he said.

“Well, somebody you’re dating. You are dating, right?”

He shook his head again. “Santana, I don’t know if you realize the _pressure_ I’m under here. Dalton’s not like Catholic was. I have to focus on my studies if I want to make it here. PSATs are coming up soon.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” she said, but Jeff reached out and grabbed Blaine’s arm, tugging him out of Santana’s sights. He pressed a couple dollars into his hand.

“Here. Why don’t you go down to the pop machine and get your friends some cold drinks.”

“Sure,” said Blaine obligingly. “Britt, you still drinking Dr. Pepper?”

“Dr. Howell made me switch to diet,” she said. “He said my teeth had scales on them. Maybe I’m turning into a mermaid?”

Santana thought Blaine might have blanched at Dr. Howell’s name, but _that_ didn’t make any sense, so she ignored it. She waved a hand. “Diet Sprite for me.”

“I know,” he said, smiling. “You’ve been drinking it since you were ten. Be right back, ladies.”

Jeff watched Blaine head out the door. Then he turned to face them, his expression hardening.

“What are you trying to do here?” he demanded.

“If you must know, we’re here at the request of one Finn Hudson,” Santana said.

That brought Jeff up short. “Finn asked you to come?”

“He said I know Blaine better than anybody. Which is true. We’ve been friends since we were five. My assessment: this was Blaine, being normal, and you being an asshole.”

“This?” Jeff scoffed. _“This_ was Blaine trying too hard. That’s all he does anymore.”

“He didn’t seem any different than usual,” said Brittany. Jeff shook his head, scowling.

“He’s not letting himself relax, _ever._ It’s like he knows he can’t do it on his own, so he’s just not going to even try. He’s not allowed to drink or anything else. And the other ways I can help him, he won’t let me get close enough to let me in.”

That didn’t make much sense to Santana either, but she nodded. “Finn said something about… his boyfriend. You know about him?”

Jeff frowned at her. “Do _you?_ I’m not about to out anybody.”

“Well, he _told_ me about somebody, a long time ago. But maybe Blaine doesn’t want to talk about him. Maybe it was just a fling, a night at the club.”

“You’re talking about Puck.”

She glanced at Britt, who immediately reached out and took her hand. “What if I am?”

“Well, I notice he’s not the one who told you to come.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “That might be because he’s in juvie.”

“Oh.” Jeff looked completely confused. “I didn’t know that. What did he _do?”_

“What didn’t he do? Puck’s the baddest of the bad boys. Something about robbing an ATM.”

Jeff hesitated. “Look, I really don’t want to make this any worse than it already is. Here’s what I know: Blaine did RENT this summer in Cleveland, and he started dating these guys, and he told me he was _happy_. Blaine only pretends to be happy. He’s never _actually_ happy, except apparently he was. And then his dad said he couldn’t see Finn or Puck anymore, and he — he went back to this pretend-happy thing. Only it’s all the time.” He shrugged. “That’s it.”

“Here you go,” they heard from the door. Blaine smiled as he passed Britt and Santana the cans of pop. “Heads up.” He tossed a Coke at Jeff, who caught it one-handed, and opened a ginger ale for himself. This time Santana made eye contact with Jeff before opening her mouth, feeling like an idiot for asking this dork in a blazer for permission to say anything, but he nodded.

“So Britt tells me you did RENT this summer?” she asked.

“It was just a little part, but yeah, it was great. Your choir director and his, um.” Blaine bit his lip. “I don’t want to give away any secrets.”

“It’s okay,” said Brittany, patting his arm. “It’s his real hair.”

“We know about Toby, if that’s what you mean?” Santana added.

Blaine nodded in relief. “Yes. I learned so much from both of them. You’re very lucky.”

“And you met Kurt.”

She watched carefully as Blaine’s eyes went thoughtful. “Yes, he was in the swing cast too, wasn’t he?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Well, you know. There were a lot of people involved in that production.” He sipped his ginger ale calmly. Santana gritted her teeth.

“So what’s with all the hair gel, Blainers?”

He laughed. “I’m trying a new look. Something a little more… contained. What do you think?”

“I think it looks ridiculous. You do know most girls would kill for your hair?”

“Oh, well,” he said, with an offhanded wave. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something else next season.”

She could only tolerate so much small talk about Dalton. Whenever she would try to redirect the conversation to his father or his summer, Blaine would find a way to bring up something else. Eventually she stood up.

“We’d better get going. It’s a long way back to Lima.”

“Thank you so much for coming, both of you,” Blaine said effusively, giving them hugs. “I’m not sure when I’m going to be visiting my mom again, but I’ll call you if I’m back in town. Tell Will — Mr. Schuester I said hello, all right?”

While Santana put on her coat, Brittany ran her fingers over a framed photo of Jeff with an older girl. The girl had wispy blonde hair, and she’d been caught in the middle of a laugh.

“You know her too?” Britt said.

“Well, she’s my sister. I’d say I know her pretty well?” Jeff gave her a quizzical look. Santana touched his arm and shook her head.

“Don’t question it,” she said. “Britt has her own way of seeing things.”

“There’s a picture of her on Puck’s phone,” said Britt to Santana as they walked down the stairs. “With the lady with the mohawk. And the tall man with the red beard. I think he might be Santa’s Scottish brother?”

“Look, Britt, forget that. This is important.” Santana stopped on the grand curving staircase and grabbed Britt’s hands until she was looking at her. “Something is wrong with Blaine. I don’t know if I believe what Finn told me about… all of them, together, but… I have to try to figure this out. I’m pretty sure Blaine’s not going to be any help, and God help me if I have to talk to _Kurt_ about it.”

Britt pursed her lips. “What about Blaine’s other best friend?”

Santana shook her head impatiently. “Blaine has a million friends at Dalton, and none of them know anything about him. That Jeff guy in there was a douche.”

“Not here,” said Britt. “At home. Davey.”

“Dave _Karofsky?”_

“You’re hurting my ears.” Brittany took Santana’s hand and tugged her toward the lobby. “Come on. If we hurry, we can get home in time to watch Mad Men before you rehearse _River Deep, Mountain High_ with Mercedes.”

* * *

_Online: Jake, Mar._

_Login 2010-10-20 20:09:03: Sarah. Mood: annoyed._

J: _okay, Sar, whats annoying_

S: _My stupid brother._

J: _whatd I do now??_

S: _Not you. Usually it would be Timmy who’d win most annoying. No, this is about Noah, who is being extra stupid right now._

M: _This is the brother who lives with you?_

S: _That’s him. He wins the Super Stupid Plus One medal for the month. And trust me, I would tell him that to his face, so it doesn’t count as gossip. Can I talk about him here?_

J: _everything we say here is confidential, sarah_

S: _I guess? I wanted to check. Because Ricky’s in Columbus and Katie’s in Akron and Ry’s in Dayton and Jake’s in Mansfield, but me and Marley are both in Lima, at the same school, in all these classes together. That might make it extra weird if she suddenly knows weird stuff about my family. Which, I gotta say, is super weird in the best way._

M: _Please call me Mar, Sarah, with pronouns they, them. And it won’t be weird knowing about your brother. You already know my mom, and I talk about her all the time._

S: _Sorry, Mar. Forgot about the pronouns. And who’s your mom?_

M: _Millie Rose, she works in the high school cafeteria. She said she knows your brother._

S: _Huh. No, I didn’t know that. But cool. That’s a great superpower to have, feeding kids._

M: _*considers the validity of that as a superpower*_

J: _so what did Noah do now_

S: _He left town. Again. This time he took off with our dad to Adventure Camp, somewhere in Oregon, for this religious retreat. But our dad lied and told the high school he’s in juvie._

J: _you dont know where he is?_

S: _Dude, Adventure Camp, that’s all I know. That’s not the big deal, though. The big deal is that it’s almost his one-year anniversary with his boyfriends and he’s not even around to celebrate it._

J: _what happened to his phone_

M: _Wait, boyfriends?_

S: _He turned off his phone._

J: _your right, that does suck_

M: _Both his boyfriends have the same anniversary? Do they know about each other?_

S: _Mar, this is part of the awesome weirdness. We all live together. Boyfriend number one is his best friend. Boyfriend number two is my foster dad’s other kid. Boyfriend number one’s mom and boyfriend number two’s dad are gonna get married and adopt me and Noah._

M: _*speechless*_

S: _That’s a good look on you, Mar._

M: _Hey!_

J: _I’m cracking up right now_

S: _Kurt thinks something nefarious is going on because Noah promised not to leave. I just think he’s being a dork._

J: _hey did you know dork means whale penis_

M: _This is one of those examples of you being insensitive, Jake._

J: _sorry, yeah. anything I can do, sarah?_

S: _Not unless you can magically find Noah and tell him to get his ass home._

J: _well theres my mom, shes deputy sheriff. I bet she could do something._

S: _Jake. That is BRILLIANT._

M: _Jake’s superpower is coming through with just the right ideas at the most surprising moments._

S: _What’s your superpower, Mar?_

M: _I don’t think I have one?_

J: _totally their voice_

M: _You’ve never heard me sing, Jake, but I’m blushing anyway._

S: _Mar, before I met Holly and talked to you here, I would have said your superpower was annoying the shit out of everybody, but now I’m thinking it’s your ability to make your friends feel heard._

M: _I’m… both distressed and touched by that statement, Sarah. Does that mean I’m your friend?_

S: _You are now._

* * *

Kurt waited until Sam was out of the shower and dressed before approaching him, because there were some things that were stalkery even between gay men.

“I’m setting you free,” he told Sam with a conciliatory smile. “You can do your duet with someone else in Glee. Someone that the world deems more appropriate.”

Sam paused in toweling his hair. “Did I do something to offend you?”

“No, no,” Kurt assured him. “It’s not you, it’s me. You’ve been honorable, actually, and I wish you the best, but I’ve realized that I need to sing with someone who inspires some passion in me.”

He nodded soberly. “The last I heard, guys were kind of inspirational to you.”

“Yes, I’m gay, but that’s not exactly what I was talking about.”

Sam leaned in a little closer. His expression was intense, all serious concern. “Are you sure there’s nothing I did wrong? Because I gave my word. In my world, that’s that.”

“You’re fine, Sam,” Kurt said. Sam smiled, straightening up.

“Okay. Any suggestions for me, then?”

Kurt smiled back. “Well… they make special shampoo for color-treated hair.”

“I don’t dye my hair,” Sam called after him as he walked away.

* * *

Santana slid into the seat across from Finn at lunch and fixed him with her stare. “Okay, Hudson. We need to have a talk.”

He pushed aside his lunch tray and leaned eagerly toward her. “Did you see Blaine?”

“Hold your horses. I’m going to go back to that part where you claimed Blaine was dating you _and_ Kurt _and_ Puck. Is this actually true?”

Finn glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby. “Yeah. It’s true.”

“And you’d say that what you guys had was serious? Not just a summer thing?”

Finn nodded again.

Santana leaned back and crossed her arms, looking like she’d bitten into something sour. “Well, that’s bad news, because Blaine had zero things to say about having a boyfriend of any kind. Or anything at all about you, or Puck. And while he did agree to having been in RENT with Mr. Schue and Toby, he barely registered my comments about Kurt. So that means one of two things.” She tapped her foot. “Either you’re full of shit, or he’s got some serious issues in that little curly-haired brain of his.”

He stared down at his lunch tray, his stomach curdling. “Shit.”

“Are you declaring the first one to be true?” she said louder. “Because I seriously doubt it.”

“No, no, I was just… hoping it wasn’t like that. You don’t think maybe he could have been pretending, trying to fake out somebody who could have been spying for his dad?”

“There is no way in hell I would ever spy for that _hijo de puta,_ ” she spat. “Blaine knows it. He trusts me. That — what I saw? That was as real as he’s going to get right now.”

Finn closed his eyes and sighed, nodding. “Okay. Thank you for going.”

He told himself it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Whatever Blaine had done to protect himself was apparently working far too well.

 _He just wants to be a good boy,_ he thought, clenching his teeth.

In Glee, Santana and Mercedes killed it with their duet of “River Deep, Mountain High.” The applause was tumultuous.

“I think we might as well give up the duet contest now,” Mike stage-whispered to Tina, who definitely looked worried. Then Kurt raised his hand.

“Mr. Schue, if I may?”

He nodded. “You may.”

Finn watched in astonishment as Kurt came down to the floor. Kurt hadn’t said one word to him about singing a duet, and yet here he was, poised in the crook of the piano.

“As many of you know, I have a built-in duet partner, but due to sensitivities I’d rather not get into at the moment, he’s not here for me to sing with him.”

Mr. Schue looked around. “Okay… so who _are_ you going to sing a duet with?”

At Kurt’s nod, Brad stood up, and Kurt rounded the piano to sit where he’d been. “Well, thanks to the miracles of modern technology, he doesn’t have to be here physically. One year ago, Noah came to my house and sang this song to me. Now, he’s part of my household. More than that, he’s part of my family. No matter what happens. I don’t want to let this opportunity go by without honoring that. He means more to me than just about anything in the world — including winning this competition.”

Kurt gave Finn a tight smile. It might have been a smile of apology, because Finn already felt like the bottom had been yanked out of his stomach. Rachel was watching him with uncharacteristic concern, and reached out to take his hand and squeeze it. He squeezed back without really thinking about it.

Then Brad pressed a button on the machine in front of him, and suddenly the sound of the opening guitar riff to Puck’s date night CD filled the room. While Finn’s heart constricted, Kurt played an accompaniment on the piano — and they heard Puck begin to sing.

<https://youtu.be/J8exFaYS4Uw>

_A hard knock_  
_A cold clock_  
_Ticking off my time_  
_A long look_  
_But no luck_  
_Couldn't seem to find_  
_Or unwind_  
_Into peace of mind  
_ _While I was trying…_

Kurt played the piano accompaniment along with Puck on his guitar, but he didn’t join in singing the harmony with Puck until the second verse. Finn was sure he had never heard Kurt sing this particular song before, and it struck him like a blow, especially the lines in the bridge about _I’m enough for your love and that thought sets me free_.

When Rachel made a little noise of discomfort, he realized he was crushing her tiny hand in his. He let go and grabbed the edge of the chair instead, swallowing hard. The last thing he wanted to do was steal the spotlight by bursting into tears.

Other than applause, the rest of the room was quiet when he was done. Finn could see Kurt’s own eyes were filled and spilling over onto his cheeks, but he maintained his composure at the piano.

“Hey, I bet he’ll be glad to hear about this when he comes back from juvie,” Sam spoke up heartily, clearly trying for optimism. “And happy anniversary, man.”

“Thanks,” Kurt said, with a distracted smile.

“I’m sorry I said that about Puck being stupid, Kurt,” said Brittany. “He wasn’t being stupid to tell you how he felt. Even back then. Even if it was hard.” She sent a pointed look at Santana, who was ignoring her.

“Kurt, I’m not sure that was exactly what I had in mind when I asked for a duet, but…” Mr. Schue nodded. “It was just right.”

“Well, not every duet is a traditional one,” Kurt said briskly. “I think it’s important to honor the ones that… have more sides than an ordinary box.”

It felt like half of Glee turned at that moment to look right at Finn. He swallowed, trying not to look back at any of them.

“Finn, I…” Rachel began, but Finn just shook his head. When Mr. Schue let them go, he walked out to the hallway to wait for Kurt, who was being mobbed by well-wishers. His head was spinning as he counted.

_Santana knows, and Britt. Mercedes. Quinn. Rachel. Mr. Schue and Brad. That’s more than half._

Kurt eventually emerged from the choir room. When he saw Finn, he came over to him, but slowed when he saw the expression on his face.

“Had you been planning that all along?” Finn asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“Finn,” said Kurt.

“More than half of those people already know about us. I don’t know, the way people talk, maybe all of them by now. There’s no reason that couldn’t have been us, doing that duet for Puck together. But you didn’t even bother to tell me you were gonna do it.” He got right down in Kurt’s face. It would have looked like ordinary intimidation from any distance. “I asked _you_ to do a duet with me, Kurt. And you said no, we can’t — and then you did it with somebody who’s not even _here?”_

“You’re the one who jumped to plan one with Rachel,” Kurt snapped back. “Don’t even pretend you considered asking me at the beginning of the assignment. And you and Noah have sung countless songs together, which you and I have _never_ done.”

“You think it would have played this way if Puck hadn’t disappeared?” His voice was rising into the hallway teeming with students on their way out the door, and he barely cared. “Hell, no. This would have been business as usual. I’m the brother. The best friend. Never what I _am.”_

“That’s not what I want, Finn!” Kurt grabbed his arms and held him there. “Would you get a grip? You don’t get to pretend this is my _choice._ ”

“Way to make a spectacle of yourselves,” called Lauren from across the hall. Kurt let go of Finn’s arms and huffed as she approached.

“Spare us the commentary,” Finn said, still glaring at Kurt.

“Yeah, well, I think you’re gonna remember that you’re both on the same side when you hear what I discovered.” She held up a printout of a web page. “I looked up Adventure Camp in Oregon.”

Kurt snatched the page out of her hands and began scanning it. “What is this?”

“Turns out your Adventure Camp doesn’t exist,” she said grimly. “It’s a front for another organization. That page there, that’s a record from [Cultwatch411.com](http://Cultwatch411.com).”

“Oh my god.” Kurt’s face was ashen. He clutched Finn’s arm again, this time for support.

“Yeah. It’s a conversion camp. People have made reports about them numerous times. That page lists the worst of it, including experiences of psychological and physical torture and abuse.”

“Conversion camp?” Finn echoed. “I think his dad already did that, if he didn’t already believe.”

“Converting _gay kids,_ Finn,” Kurt said. His voice sounded wooden. “They use church dogma and persuasive, charismatic experiences to try to scare kids out of being attracted to the same sex. But — there’s no way Noah would be fooled by that.”

“It’s not just fooling, Kurt.” Lauren was pointing to something in the third paragraph. “This is hands-on aversion therapy. They’re doing all kinds of things to them there.”

“Where?” Kurt demanded. “Where did it say the camp is? We have to tell my dad.” He swallowed thickly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Finn picked up Kurt’s messenger bag and rushed him outside to get him some fresh air. He turned to Lauren, who was walking along beside them. “Where did you find this?”

“I told you, online. There are web pages for all kinds of organizations. Those J4J folks, by the way, they’re not messing around. They definitely have an agenda, and it ain’t love and tolerance.”

Kurt appeared to have decided he was not going to be sick after all. He paused beside them and reclaimed his bag from Finn, his face grim and set.

“Can I take this?” he asked Lauren, holding up the printout.

“Be my guest,” Lauren said, gesturing at him. “I already send the same information to Sarah in email.”

“Come on.” Finn tugged him toward the car. “I’ll drive home.”

Kurt was rereading the paper a third time as Finn buckled his seat belt. Finally, he gently removed the printout from of Kurt’s hands and laid it on the back seat.

“I’m sorry,” Finn said. “About what I said about your song. I don’t really think you don’t care about us being out.”

“No.” Kurt sniffled and wiped his eyes. “No, that’s not how I feel at all.” He looked up at Finn, and his face was scared. “This is really bad, Finn. Noah’s impressionable under the best circumstances. And in a place like that…”

“I know.”

“We need to get him out of there.”

“I don’t know if there’s anything that’s changed, though. Like his social worker said, we don’t have any control. He’s still with his dad, and his dad is still…” Finn choked a little on the words. “He’s still in charge of Puck.”

“ _No,”_ Kurt said. He sounded desperate. “No, he’s _not._ _We_ are in charge of him.”

“All right, baby.” Finn started the ignition with a sigh. “All right.”


	23. Duets, Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m playing kind of fast and loose with the timing of how long Puck is gone and how long it would really take for them to get in action about it. Hopefully that doesn’t stress anyone out too much. 
> 
> Some unexpected things happened in this chapter, but it worked, so I went with what the characters told me to do.

Sarah thought Frances was being unusually quiet on the way home from school. The bus paused to let three more kids off, then chuffed and roared on its way down Bellefontaine.

“Sorry we had to take the bus today,” said Sarah. “Kurt and Finn have been feeling too upset to do much for other people.”

“It’s fine,” said Frances. She tucked her newly-trimmed hair behind her ear, and it immediately fell forward onto her face again. The smile she gave Sarah was full of tension, but Sarah wasn’t about to push her to talk here.

“So Lauren sent that stuff to me about Noah’s Adventure Camp. I’ve been trying to figure out all day what to do about it. Because my dad has pulled some crazy stuff in his day, but this shit is just not okay.”

Frances stiffened a little, which Sarah figured was about the swearing. She never liked it when Sarah used that kind of language. It had always been ordinary language in her household, and nobody there had ever told her not to use it, except her Ma when she was being particularly hypocritical. _Clean up your fuckin’ language_ always made Sarah laugh.

“Sorry,” she added belatedly.

“It’s fine,” Frances said again. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them and crossed them again the other way.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“I’m _fine,”_ she snapped.

This time Sarah stared at her in astonishment. Frances immediately cringed and looked away.

“What the fucking fuck, Francie?”

But Frances was already crying, those silent tears of hers that didn’t quite fall and didn’t look like a big deal, unless you knew her like Sarah did. She reached down beside Frances’ leg and grasped her hand, out of sight of everyone else. Frances clutched it tightly.

“Talk about anything else,” she begged. “Anything but Noah. Please.”

“Okay. Um…” It was hard to switch gears that quickly. “Lydia says I can visit the horses at Tessera at Christmas.”

She rambled on randomly about the baby horse, who was nearly a yearling already, while Frances listened in silence. She didn’t let go of Sarah’s hand, but when they got off the bus and stepped onto the gravel road, she brushed past her and went straight for Blaine’s garden.

Finn had done most of the initial landscaping for the house, using Sarah’s plans and working with Carole to get the passive watering system in before they put down the sod, but it was Blaine who had done nearly all the summer planting. Some of the annuals he’d planted in August were still around. Carole had tried to tell him, _it’s too late for flowers,_ but he’d enjoyed being in the dirt so much, she had stopped trying to convince him not to put in more of them.

The birds scattered from the birdbath as Frances approached, but once she sat on the bench they returned, ducking their heads under the water and shaking their feathers. Sarah sat quietly beside her, waiting as Frances blew her nose and kept right on crying.

“I’m sorry this thing with Noah is getting to you,” she said.

“It’s not about Noah. I mean, yes, it’s terrible, and I feel so worried about him, but…”She turned her red eyes on Sarah, sniffing. “This is about me.”

“Okay?” She tapped her foot on the patio stone. “Are you gonna tell me, or should I guess?”

“Maybe you should guess,” Frances whispered.

“Is it because your mom is freaked out about you being gay?”

Frances squeezed her eyes shut. “I — I never said I was!”

“No, I know.” She scooted closer and hugged Frances before she could get away. “So… was that it, or should I keep guessing?”

“That was it.” Frances voice was muffled in her hair. “How did you know?”

“Uh…” Sarah had to stifle a giggle. “Okay, let me think. Maybe it’s because you kissed me at New Year’s? Or maybe it’s all the books you’re always reading with gay characters in them. Or maybe it’s because I’m your best friend and I know everything about you —“

“Okay, okay!” Now Frances sounded normal-annoyed. It made them both relax a little while Frances wiped her eyes. “There was… a girl. Last summer. At Girl Scout camp.” She made a face. “God, I just remembered it was called _Adventure Camp._ But it wasn’t anything like your brother’s camp, I promise! It was just — fantastic.”

“You told me how great it was. But you didn’t say anything about a girl. Or, wait, was that Laura? The one who liked the Indigo Girls?”

Frances nodded, keeping her eyes on the tissue in her lap. Sarah waited, but Frances didn’t say anything else, so Sarah gave her a little poke in the ribs.

“Are you going to tell me what happened, or do I need to guess that too? Trust me, my imagination is totally off the charts when it comes to sex.”

“No sex!” Frances squeaked, her eyes huge. “Nothing like _that._ Well.” She squirmed. “We kissed? There was kissing. That was all.”

“Sounds like that was enough.”

“I — I already knew.” She looked absolutely miserable, twisting her hands in her lap. “About me. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. For a while I wasn’t sure, and then when I thought I _was,_ I was still so confused. And Blaine and I talked this summer, and he helped me, but now…” She made a little hiccuping sob. “Now I can’t even bring up any of you when I talk to him. Especially Noah.”

Sarah hadn’t even thought about how much that might suck. “What _does_ happen if you try to bring him up?”

“The last time I tried, Blaine just wandered away from the conversation. All he talks about is school and the Warblers.” She closed her eyes. “I miss him. The parts of him that are… you know. Gone.”

They sat in silence for a minute, watching the birds. Sarah thought about Blaine being _gone_. She wondered if Noah would come back from Adventure Camp in one piece.

Frances fumbled for her hand. “I miss _you,_ too.”

“Oh,” said Sarah, startled, “well… I’m still here?”

“Yeah, but you’re not in classes with me anymore, or lunch. You’re doing eighth grade things with Marley Rose and I’m doing seventh grade things. And you have Lauren, and all your friends online you never talk about.”

“That’s confidential,” she said, but it hurt to say it. “It’s not like I _want_ to have secrets from you.”

“I know. But you do, even if you don’t want to.” Frances shrugged. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about this summer before.”

Sarah nudged Frances’ ballet flat with her own worn black combat boot. “It’s okay. I think I knew you were keeping things from me, but I assumed it was because you liked me, in a lesbian kind of way, and you felt weird about that.”

Frances went beet-red at the word _lesbian._ “Oh,” she said, and laughed shakily. “I — uh.”

Sarah turned to face her on the bench, grasping both her hands. “You don’t have to worry about me,” she said fiercely. “I love you, and I’m not gonna stop, no matter how you feel. I mean, I guess it might feel weird for _you,_ but it’s not weird for _me._ ”

“Oh,” Frances said again, in a smaller voice. She flicked a panicked glance at the house, then back at Sarah. “Okay.”

Sarah felt the moment drag on, until she finally furrowed her eyebrows. “So how _is_ it for you?”

“Well,” said Frances, sounding strangled, “I — I love you, too.”

“I know _that,”_ Sarah said. She tried to keep her voice like Finn’s, calm and confident, instead of the way Timothy or her Ma would have been, annoyed and sharp. “But is it a sexy kind of love, or not?”

Frances looked like she might pass out right there on the bench. “Is it for _you?”_

“I don’t know yet,” Sarah said. “I don’t think I have very sexy feelings about anybody yet. But I’m really curious, and there’s a lot of things I want to try, and I’d rather try them with you than anybody else.” She grinned. “Every time I try to talk about it with Noah, he starts hyperventilating, so I guess I’m on to something.”

“Oh,” Frances said a third time. Now she just looked amazed. “You — you really want to do… _things…_ with me?”

“Well,” she said, “the way I think about it, our whole lives are going to be full of new people and new things? We’re going to go places we don’t even know about yet. But there’s a lot of stuff we can try right now, and we don’t have to go anywhere to try them. So why not?”

Frances appeared to be drowning in these ideas a little. Sarah decided she’d better do something. She leaned in and kissed Frances on the neck, right under her ear.

The noise Frances made was surprisingly loud. Sarah smiled into her skin and kissed her again.

“Sarah,” she said, sounding desperate. “Why are you doing that?”

“I wanted to?” Sarah brushed her cheek against Frances’ skin. “Wow, your neck is really soft. You smell good. Am I freaking you out? Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes. No.” She took a deep breath. “Just a second.”

Sarah sat patiently while Frances stared at her, clearly perplexed.

“You just — want to do all this with me, suddenly?” Frances said. She sounded a little angry.

“Not suddenly,” Sarah said. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot all year.”

“Well, it’s the first I knew about it! I mean, most people don’t just start… _kissing_ their best friend.” Frances shook her head. “How do you even think you can _do_ that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean — it’s like —“ Frances stood up, walking restlessly to the edge of the garden, standing there with her hands protectively around her arms. She gestured at the horizon, looking over the empty field next door toward the line of trees. “It’s like you suddenly said, _I never told you before, but I’m a queen, and I own all this land, and I’m bequeathing it to you.”_ She was breathing hard. “How am I supposed to feel about that? What do I say?”

“I don’t know!” Sarah felt a little angry herself. “I think you decide if you want it or not, and if you don’t, you just say _no thanks,_ and —“

“And what?” Frances shouted. “And things go back the way they were?”

“Maybe?” She stood up, walking slowly toward Frances, like she was one of Lydia’s skittish horses. “I think we get to decide that. I’m just saying…” She paused a few feet away, watching her for signs of bolting. “No matter what you decide, I’m still giving it to you. Like, it was always yours anyway.” She cocked her head. “You really didn’t know?”

“I don’t know _anything,_ ” Frances said raggedly. Then she took two quick steps forward and kissed Sarah, this time on the mouth.

Sarah had to stretch up on her toes to meet Frances’ lips. When she put her hand behind Frances’ head and brought her face down a little further, she felt their tongues touch. Frances immediately shivered.

“Is that gross or good?” Sarah asked.

“Good,” Frances breathed. “And — a little scary. And — good.”

“Okay. Good.” She tried the kissing-tongue thing again, and was pleased to feel Frances relax a little more. “I think if you can keep telling me how it feels, that would be useful.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No,” Frances said quickly. She laughed apologetically. “I think… I might never want to stop.”

“Well, I have a lot of things I want to try,” said Sarah, “so I’m gonna start suggesting them. You’re just going to have to tell me _yes_ or _no.”_

Her eyes looked very big and very blue. “That’s… a lot of ground to cover.”

Sarah smiled. She touched that very soft skin of Frances’ neck with her fingertips, and watched Frances’ eyes close in response. “Well, of course it is. I’m the queen, after all.”

“Yes,” Frances whispered.

“If we go inside, there are more things we can try.”

Frances stumbled back a step, staring. “Uh… maybe?”

Sarah shook her head. “Maybe is really the same as _no, not yet._ So I’d rather only do _yes_ things.” She reached down to retrieve her backpack and Frances’ satchel, handing it to her. “How about you help me start dinner, and we can talk about what things are _yes_ and what things aren’t.”

Frances looked somewhat uncomfortable with that plan. But when they dropped their bags off upstairs on the green couch, she said, tentatively, “Kissing is a _yes.”_

“Uh-huh,” said Sarah, grinning. Frances blushed.

“What about the rest? Whatever I want? I mean… whatever we both want?”

She thought about that. “Sure, but I think asking is best.”

“Asking is embarrassing,” Frances admitted.

“I don’t think we should do things we’re too embarrassed to talk about.” She took a little step into Frances’ space, watching her get used to standing that close, and waited until Frances leaned in to kiss her.

When they paused this time, Frances looked sad.

“What is it?” Sarah asked.

“I’m not going to be able to talk to my parents about this, Sarah. At all. And I know it’s going to be weird at school.”

“It’s not going to be weird for very long,” Sarah promised. “It’s different. We’ll adapt. Okay if I kiss you again?”

She could see what Noah meant about girls feeling good. She’d kissed a couple boys before, and none of them had felt nearly as nice as Frances, or made such pleasant noises. But Frances still looked sad.

Sarah led them back downstairs to the kitchen and began getting out the ingredients for the stir-fry. They’d been trying to keep dinners heart-healthy, so Tatenui would be able to eat all the same stuff as the rest of the family. She looked across the counter at Frances, who still appeared to be mostly overwhelmed in a not-so-good way, while all she was feeling was a little smug.

“I know you can’t tell your parents,” she said as she washed the bok choi, “or Blaine, at the moment. I can’t exactly tell Noah right now, either. But I think we should tell the rest of my family.”

Frances looked horrified. “All of them?”

“If we don’t tell all of them, we’re gonna have to keep it a secret here, too. And they don’t really keep secrets from one another.” She paused. “Are you telling me you don’t want to do any kissing at my house?”

“Not in _front_ of anybody!”

Sarah frowned. “Well, okay? I’m a pretty good secret-keeper, but I think you need somebody on your side. Can you think of anybody you’d want to tell besides Blaine?”

“Not really,” Frances admitted. “I think everybody else would… be judgmental. Either they’d say what we were doing was a sin, or they’d say we’re not doing it right.”

This was completely baffling to Sarah. “What, you mean, they’d critique our technique or something?”

“No!” Now she was laughing. “I mean they’d say we had to be, you know. Together.”

Sarah still didn’t get it. She set the bok choi on the cutting board. “Aren’t we?”

“Well, there’s a usual way, right? Dating, and then being exclusive, and then…” She sighed. “I guess we’re already breaking so many rules it doesn’t actually matter.”

“It doesn’t _actually_ matter, ever,” Sarah insisted.

Frances looked sad again. “Only to you, Sarah.”

“Well, does not-breaking-the-rules matter more than kissing?” She had a sudden thought. “Do you think _that’s_ why Noah is doing this Adventure Camp? Because he thinks he should be following the rules?”

“Maybe.” Frances watched her scowling at the vegetables as she chopped them with vicious intensity. “Don’t cut yourself.”

“I’m not going to cut myself!” Sarah snapped.

Frances came around to her side of the island and stood behind her. She put both hands on Sarah’s shoulders until she put down the knife.

“It’s not,” Frances said. “It’s _not_ more important. I don’t agree with what your dad’s doing with your brother. I think…” She took a steadying breath. “I think you have to trust your own feelings about what’s right, but… for most people, it’s easy to get confused by listening to what other people tell you. Especially if you respect them and you want them to approve of you.”

“Duh,” Sarah muttered. She turned around and hugged Frances tightly. “You get to choose. Nobody else chooses for you.”

Sarah could feel her breathing change as soon as they were touching again. “No, but it’s hard to remember that sometimes, when I feel judged by everybody else.”

They heard the front door open and close. “Girls?” called Kurt. “Are you here?”

“We’re here,” Sarah called back. She let Frances step back out of her arms, but before she could go too far, Sarah leaned in and kissed her quickly. “You get to choose,” she whispered. “I’m not going to make you do it.”

Frances nodded. She still looked scared, but grateful, too. _Thank you,_ she mouthed.

Kurt and Finn were in even worse shape than they’d been the night before. Kurt dropped his bag beside the counter and let out a big sigh. “Did you get that email from Lauren about Adventure Camp?”

“Yeah,” said Sarah. She chopped the last of the bok choi and dumped it into the colander, then passed it to Frances to be washed before accepting the hug Kurt offered.

“I don’t know how we’re going to do it yet,” said Kurt under his breath, “but we’re going to figure out how to get him away from that place. I’m not going to let anybody hurt him.”

“I’m working on it, too,” she said. That earned her a smile. She glanced over at Frances. “Do you think we could… maybe play Monopoly tonight? The four of us?”

“We could do that,” Kurt agreed.

Frances didn’t look up from slicing the chicken, but she was smiling, too. “You’re going to win.”

 _I haven’t yet,_ Sarah thought. _But I’m getting there._

* * *

When Finn got back from taking Frances home, he could hear the sound of the piano upstairs. He climbed the staircase slowly and walked through the hall, savoring the sound. When he reached the bottom of the half-staircase leading up to the sitting room, he paused there, listening and watching Kurt for a minute or two before circling around to stand where Kurt could see him. Kurt didn’t stop playing, or even acknowledge him.

“Is that Sherbert?” Finn asked.

“ _Schubert,”_ Kurt said emphatically. He glared at the piano, which was devoid of music. “Opus 90, number 4, in A flat major.”

“You know the whole thing by heart?”

“My fingers know. If I start thinking about it, I’ll screw up.”

Finn rested a hand on the piano. “Does that mean you’re trying to stay out of your head? You know I’ve got tools to help with that.”

After a moment, Kurt stopped playing, bowing his head. His hands curled into his lap, loose and empty.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“You can finish that first,” said Finn. “You haven’t played in weeks.”

He shook his head. “No, I thought it would calm me down, but… it’s just making me think about Blaine.”

Finn moved to sit beside him on the piano bench. “Ms. Pillsbury said he was playing piano at Java the Hut. Maybe you should go see him.”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t think I can deal with him not acknowledging my existence, Finn.”

“You don’t know that’s what would happen.”

“Yeah, I do.” Kurt’s voice was bitter. “He treated Carl that way. And what Santana said… it was like this summer never happened.” He rested his head on Finn’s shoulder. “I wish Dave would go see him. Because he’s part of his past, just like Santana. And maybe that would… I don’t know, trigger something. Make him wake up from whatever game he’s playing to please his father.”

“You think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I have no idea, Finn,” he said sharply. “Maybe he just changed his mind about us.”

Finn put a hand on his back. “You don’t really think that.”

Kurt’s head dropped a little more. “No. I don’t really think that.”

“I don’t think we can help Blaine. Not right now, anyway. But what about Puck? There must be somebody we can talk to, somebody who can help. I mean, there must be somebody who can do _something.”_

“No. There’s nobody. His social worker said the same thing Ms. Pillsbury said: that Dad has no control over Noah until the adoption is complete. And I can’t imagine we’ll ever get Mr. Puckerman to sign any kind of agreement after this. Carole already tried calling the Jews for Jesus organization directly, but it’s just an answering machine.” Kurt licked his lips, like he tasted something bad. “God, it makes me sick to even say that name. How did Noah get caught up in this? How did I let him?”

Finn wanted to tell him to stop, not to blame himself. He wanted to give him the assurance that Sarah and Puck would get to stay with them. Above all, he wanted to reassure him everything would be all right. But he couldn’t honestly tell him any of those things. He just held him a little closer and kissed him on the head.

“I love you, baby,” he said.

That made Kurt start crying again. He clutched the front of Finn’s shirt and buried his face into his chest for about a minute. Then he wiped his eyes and sat up.

“Tess,” he said. “We should call Tess. She knows people. Maybe there’s someone in Oregon who can help. She’ll know what to do.”

Finn could hear Carl’s response to that in his head. “She’ll be angry.”

Kurt blanched. “Angry at me?”

“No, no, baby — just, you know how protective she is of Puck.” He tried to smile. “Even more than you are. I think Mr. Puckerman might be in for it when she finds out what’s going on.”

“But, Finn, _we_ don’t even know what’s going on. I think…” He took a shaky breath. “I think he did this on his own. That’s the scariest part. I think it was actually his choice.”

“But he loves you, and Adam,” Finn said. _And me_ , he added in his head, but somehow he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it out loud _._ “Speaking of Adam, you know you have to tell him what’s going on, right?”

Kurt nodded, although his expression didn’t change. “I know. I just don’t want him to do anything rash. We don’t have any good information, and he can’t do any more to help him than we can. If quits his tour for Noah, it’s just going to be bad for everyone. So… I’m waiting.”

“Okay,” said Finn. He sighed. _More secrets._

“What Noah needed to convince him there wasn’t anything wrong with him was a good spanking and a lot of loving. Now, I don’t know if those things are enough anymore.” Kurt shuddered. “I can’t stand to think about where he is right now. Can you imagine: Noah, surrounded by people who have nothing good to tell him about his choices? How do you think he’s feeling about himself?”

“He’s not a quitter, Kurt,” Finn said, with as much conviction as he could muster. “He agreed to this relationship, with you and me, at New Year’s. He said _one year —_ and that year isn’t over yet. Okay, he might not have a lot of experience with commitment, but I think by now he really does know we believe in him.”

Kurt seemed somewhat appeased by this answer, but Finn kept thinking about it even after Kurt had closed the piano and gone downstairs.

It bothered him enough that he went to find his mom after dinner. She was sitting on the floor in the still-unfinished basement, sorting through craft materials.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

She set the box of yarn and fabric on the concrete floor and nodded. “Always. What’s it about?”

He found a place along the wall where there were no boxes and settled on the floor across from her. “Do you remember how it was when Puck went to Santa Fe last December?”

She nodded again, more slowly. “I think I know how hard it was for you, and for Kurt.”

“It wasn’t so different from this. We didn’t know where he was, or how long he’d be gone.” He took the scissors from his mom and slid them along the tape sealing the box beside him. The label on the box said _Crafts,_ but when he opened the box, it was wrapping paper. She picked up the box and placed it on the pile along the far wall. “The thing is, this time, I’m not sure why I’m _not_ freaking out. It’s kind of getting to me.”

She gave him a faint smile, reclaiming the scissors. “You’re freaking out about… not freaking out?”

“I mean, of course I miss him,” he said. “I miss _everybody._ Puck. Blaine. Carl. And —“ He held up his hands helplessly. “I’m still not falling apart. Why am I not falling apart? Does that mean something about me? About — who I’ve become?”

“Maybe?” She came in close enough and took his hands. “I think that’s mostly a good thing, honey. If you can deal with your own stuff, you’re better for everybody else.”

He laughed unhappily. “I don’t really have a whole lot of _everybody_ left.”

“Finn, you have _Kurt,”_ she said, raising an eyebrow. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty crazy about him too. And Rachel, right?”

“Yeah. Rachel.”

“And what about Sarah?”

 _Sarah._ Finn thought about the look in her eyes when they’d arrived home today.

“She wasn’t worried the last time he went away,” he said. “When he was in Santa Fe, she was sure he was coming back. And she wasn’t worried before, even when she knew Puck was with their dad. But now… she’s scared. I can see it.”

“Yes,” said his mom. “She’s scared. So because you’re okay, you can be okay for her, even if she’s not sure she can do it herself. That’s how it is when you’re in charge.”

He heard the words and wondered if they meant the same thing to her as they did to him. “You mean, in charge like a parent, not in charge like… like I am with Puck.”

“I mean any of those,” she said softly. “It’s not so different. Except kids don’t consent to their own care. They have to deal with their parent, even if they’re abusive.”

Finn closed his eyes and took a long breath, letting it out. “Puck’s dad,” he said. “He used to be like that.”

“Abusive?” Her voice was suddenly hard. “Finn, what do you mean?”

“I mean… I think it was just that his dad used to hit him. He told me about that. But maybe he meant other things, too? I don’t really know. I just know… whatever it was, it messed him up. I don’t want his dad messing him up any more.”

“Me, either,” she said emphatically.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. When she offered her arms, he went into them willingly, and even cried a little. It didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“Thanks for being awesome,” he told her, which made her smile.

“Thanks for asking to talk. That’s pretty awesome, too.”

Finn didn’t bring up the way things were with Rachel and the thing she’d said to him about wanting his babies. For one thing, he wasn’t sure he could get that detailed with his mom about his sex life. For another, the last time he’d talked to her about Rachel, she’d tried pretty hard to talk him _out_ of being with her.

He also hadn’t told his mother about the memories he had of visiting Puck’s house when he was a kid, playing board games with little Sarah and seeing the bruises on her cheeks. They’d always needed to be extra quiet when Puck’s dad was sleeping during the day. Maybe Finn hadn’t realized exactly what that meant back then, but he’d known it wasn’t good. Why hadn’t he said something then?

The stir-fry hadn’t filled him up. He went upstairs to the kitchen to make himself a grilled cheese sandwich, his feet heavy on the stairs. _Messed up doesn’t begin to cover it._


	24. Puck at Adventure Camp 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to a gay conversion camp. This is a made-up place. My imagining here is mostly my own, informed by [articles I’ve read](http://www.newsweek.com/life-and-death-jewish-exgay-therapy-organization-406898) and [documentaries and movies about reparative therapy](http://www.pinknews.co.uk/2015/02/25/watch-new-documentary-goes-inside-gay-conversion-therapy-retreat/). Apparently [there still exist gay conversion camps in California](http://www.alternet.org/story/146557/what_happened_when_i_went_undercover_at_a_christian_gay-to-straight_conversion_camp), both Christian and Jewish, using some of the techniques described here. 
> 
> This has been really hard to write; I just feel so bad for everybody, even Hunter. Big warnings for psychological manipulation, boys messing around, and lots of guilt. 
> 
> -amy

There was still plenty of afternoon left by the time Puck’s dad’s truck climbed the gravel road marked with a faded painted sign marked _Adventure Camp._ Still, Puck was feeling some weird time-distortions. He was sure it was all due to having been on the road for nearly twenty-four hours. He yawned, rolling down the window and inhaling the brisk air.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to crash on me now,” said his dad, smiling. “We’re almost there.”

“Nah, I’m good.” The last time he’d dozed off, he’d had some startling dreams about Beth that he wasn’t sure he wanted to revisit. They weren’t exactly like the ones he’d had about Blaine over the past year, but they were definitely odd enough to merit conversation. He just wasn’t sure how to bring them up with his dad. Then there were all the missing-feelings he was having about Finn and Kurt and Beth and Adam and everybody. That wasn’t even counting Blaine or his sister or Carole or Burt. Those he definitely kept to himself. He was supposed to be on retreat, not freaking out about a little family withdrawal.

 _Assuming they_ _are_ _still your family,_ his thoughts taunted him. _Considering you totally rejected Kurt._

“I’m gonna have to drop you off,” his dad said. “I don’t think there’s a place for dads to sit around waiting for their kids. But I’ll be nearby, and I’ll call every day to check in. From what they told me, this thing has kind of a level two, and that’s only open to kids who ask.” He shrugged at Puck. It was such a familiar gesture, one he’d seen Timothy make a million times. “I think you should do it, but only if you want.”

“I don’t know what it’ll be like,” said Puck. “But I’ll, you know. Stay open to whatever.”

“That sounds like a good plan. I just want you to get something out of it.” His dad pointed up the rutted incline, noting the building ahead of them. “I think this is it.”

Puck carried his guitar and the bag his dad had packed for him with clothes and toothbrush. He left his phone in the glove compartment. His dad had said they’d told him not to bring electronics.

The building, made almost entirely of rivets and sheet metal, wasn’t like anything Puck had ever seen before. He’d been expecting something like the campground they’d gone to for Finn’s family reunion last summer, but this was much more stark and rustic. The cars parked outside, however, ran the gambit from rusty Subarus to gleaming BMWs. There were several other boys standing nearby with their parents. One of them was clearly trying not to cry, but the rest were just looking uncomfortable.

Puck followed his dad into the strange metal cabin. It was surprisingly bright inside, considering there weren’t any windows, and the decor was a lot closer to a meeting room than a camp cabin. The man seated at the card table looked up and smiled.

“Welcome to Adventure Camp,” he said to Puck. He held up a stack of index cards. “Name?”

“Noah Puckerman.”

The man riffled through the stack and pulled out the one with Puck’s name on it, nodding. “Sure, I remember you. You’re the last-minute registrant. Coming from Ohio. Now, that is a long drive.” He handed Puck a name badge with his first name and city and state printed on it. Then he shook Puck’s hand. His smile was just bright enough to be dazzling without seeming insincere. “I’m Cyrus Lucis, but all the kids call me Cy. I’m the director of this weekend retreat. You can come to me if you need anything, Noah — anything at all.”

To his dad, Cy handed a thick packet of papers. His dad sorted through them while Cy smiled apologetically.

“You’re going to have to work your way through these,” said Cy. “Standard release forms, permission to participate in strenuous activities, that sort of thing. If you want to take them over there and have a seat at the table, you’re welcome to read them all over. We want parents to be certain their son in good hands, but not everything we do can be guaranteed to be completely safe.”

“That’s all right,” said his dad, smiling back. “It wouldn’t be much of an adventure if it was.”

“After we get you signed in, you can get settled in the bunkhouse. Dinner’s in about forty-five minutes.” Cy indicated Puck’s guitar case. “You play?”

“He’s a pro,” said his dad.

The way his dad said it, kind of puffed up and self-important, Puck wondered how much of it had to do with his dad’s own memories of being a musician himself, and how much of it was really about him. But it still felt good to hear his dad saying something nice about him.

Cy beckoned over another boy around his age. “Hunter will show you to the bunkhouse. Why don’t you say goodbye to your dad now, Noah, and he and I can talk before he heads out.”

His dad reached out and grasped his hand, shaking it, then did that shoulder-clapping hug thing they’d always done in football. “I’ll be praying for you, son.”

“Thanks,” he said, feeling a little surprised. But of course his dad would do that.

Hunter led him away from the reception room, down a hallway and around the corner to another door, and through a corridor to a long room full of metal beds with mattresses. “Did you bring a sleeping bag?”

Puck shook his head, holding up his guitar and the bag his dad gave him. “I’m traveling light.”

“We have a couple extras in the back.” Hunter was watching Puck with a curious smile, as Puck chose an empty cot and tried not to scowl.

“What?” Puck said at last.

“You… don’t look like the guys who usually come here.”

Puck reached up and self-consciously ran a hand over his scalp. It was starting to grow back in uniformly, not long enough to curl yet, but was definitely no longer a mohawk. “Too badass?”

“Definitely.” Hunter grinned, his cheeks flashing dimples. Puck snorted, and they both laughed. “No, really. These guys… well. You’ll see.”

Puck did see when Hunter brought him back to the dining room, where young men of assorted ages were helping themselves to dinner, mostly avoiding one another. _Most of them are more like Kurt than me,_ he thought. _At least on the outside._ One very young boy with dark brown curly hair reminded him enough of Blaine that he had to look away.

“You can sit with me,” Hunter told him after they’d filled their plates. There wasn’t anything that looked awesome, but he hadn’t really expected that. He led Puck over to the table where Cy was sitting, talking to two other men. Puck looked from Hunter to Cy and back again.

“Is he your dad or something?”

“My boss. Mentor, kind of.” Hunter made an all-encompassing gesture with his knife. “I’m working here too. Like a counselor in training.”

“Cool,” Puck said. It made him look at Hunter differently. He caught Puck staring, but he didn’t look upset about it.

Cy pushed out his chair and stood up, tapping his glass for quiet, even though most of the boys had been pretty quiet already. Puck had never been much of a talker, but he was a little weirded out by how depressing the mood was. It definitely wasn’t very _adventurous._

“I’m Cy,” he said to the dining hall. “You’ve all met me. I’ll be the leader on this journey you’ve taken. I want to be the first to tell you how brave you are to take this first step toward being closer to God and to your true self. I hope you’ll all take this opportunity to get to know one another this weekend.” He gestured to the corners of the room. “Look around you. These are the brothers who are fighting alongside you, supporting you, to get back to the person God intended you to be.” He bowed his head toward his plate. “Let’s pray.”

The prayer Cy spoke was a lot like the ones they used at Puck’s dad’s group, even though his group had never eaten a meal together. Puck did the asking-for-forgiveness thing in his head as Cy mentioned it, running through the awful things he’d done in quick succession, like a slide show. He wasn’t sure if he should still be asking for forgiveness for all the old stuff, or if maybe after six or ten times asking for it, he was forgiven for all of them and he didn’t have to ask anymore? That seemed like such a crazy rule.

Then the prayer was over and people began to eat. A buzz of conversation spread across the hall. Hunter gave Puck a quick smile over his mashed potatoes.

“I play guitar too, and bass.”

“No shit.” Puck grinned. “My — uh, best friend plays in a band. Drums. We used to play together a lot.”

Talking about Finn made him wonder if Finn missed him. He wasn’t going to think about Finn, and especially not the collar Finn had given him, resting in its box beside his bed at home.

“My whole family’s pretty musical,” Puck went on. “My dad used to play in a band, too. My sister and me both write songs, and my brother’s a sound engineer. And my — my foster brother plays piano and has an awesome voice.” _And my boyfriend’s on tour on the other side of the world._

“We all sing in my family, too,” said Hunter. “My mom and my dad and me. Maybe I shouldn’t admit to it, but I sing in my show choir.”

Puck smirked. “Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t. Okay, I do too.”

“You?” Hunter had a great laugh, big and full. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”

“Because I’m such a badass.” Puck flexed, and Hunter laughed again, shaking his head.

Puck could have said _I bet there are lots of things I do that would surprise you,_ but he wasn’t going to say that with Cy and the other adults sitting right there. He didn’t actually want to get Hunter in trouble with anybody.

“Even if you don’t look it, I suppose you can live up to the stereotype in other ways,” Hunter said.

“Like all these kids do,” said Puck.

Hunter nodded.

“But not you?”

He smiled again. “I’m not even remotely bi-curious.”

Puck thought about all the things he’d done with guys since he gave Andrew Baker a blowjob for the first time at thirteen. “I’ve always been curious. About a lot of things. A lot of people.”

This time Hunter’s nod was serious. “You think you’re ready to do something about that?”

“Like what?”

“Like get serious about what you’re really doing here, and why.”

“I guess,” Puck said slowly. “I mean… I’m trying to figure it out. How to be a better man. I have a kid.”

Hunter’s eyes widened fractionally, but he just took another bite of meat and nodded for Puck to go on.

“A daughter. Her name’s Beth. She was born in April.”

“Well, that’s a great reason to make the first step.”

“The first step?”

“To stop being gay.”

Puck pushed his potatoes around on his plate. They had too much butter and not enough salt. He could have made them a million times better.

“I’m not gay,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Hunter, nodding. “That’s what you’re going for.”

“No, I mean… it doesn’t matter to me that they’re guys. I just belong with them.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. “Them?”

Puck glanced over at Cy, then lowered his voice. “My boyfriends.”

He looked genuinely perplexed. “As in more than one?”

“As in three. Kind of.” He thought about Blaine, and Alex and Daphne and Nicole in Santa Fe, and even how things had been with Carl at Valentine’s Day. “More than three, I think.”

Hunter didn’t look shocked or disgusted or anything, but he ate in silence for the rest of the meal. Puck didn’t push him. Eventually he stood up and brought his half-eaten dinner back to the kitchen, peeking through the doorway where two guys were standing at the industrial sink, wearing plastic aprons. They looked up at him in surprise.

“Hey, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Would it be okay if… I helped out with cleanup?”

The guys exchanged looks. _“Por qué preguntas?”_ one asked the other. _“Qué es lo que quiere?”_

Puck desperately mimed scrubbing a dish. “ _Lava,_ um _—_ can I _lavar los platos?”_

After a little confusing conversation in Spanish, they cleared space for him at the sink. The shorter guy handed over his apron before heading back to the dining room. He gave Puck a gentle pat on the back before he left, which felt good.

The hot water and rubber gloves felt good, too, and so did filling the enormous dishwasher with racks of plates, and taking them out three minutes later in a cloud of steam. He thought, if he never had an opportunity to get anything else in the world right, he might be satisfied doing this.

Cy gave Puck a big smile when he stripped off the sweaty apron and gloves and returned to the dining room.

“Service to your brothers is admirable work,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” Puck said.

After everyone was done eating, they returned to the first meeting room and sat around in a circle of chairs, facing one another. Cy asked them to introduce themselves with their name, their city and state, one thing they were proud about themselves, and one thing they were afraid of. He waited for a while to give them time to think.

When it got to him, Puck tried not to scowl at anybody. He didn’t really want to come off as a badass, no matter what he’d said to Hunter.

“Noah Puckerman, from Lima,” he said. “That’s in Ohio. I’m afraid of… thunderstorms? And I guess I’m proud of my daughter, Beth.”

“Is that about you?” Hunter asked.

He shrugged, keeping his gaze level with Hunter’s. “She’s the best thing I ever did.”

Most of the guys looked too scared to even say words, but they all managed something. The boy with the hair like Blaine was Daniel Glickman, from Troutdale, Oregon. He was proud of his A in chemistry and scared of Kenneth, the kid at school who’d threatened to beat him up.

“Did he throw you in the dumpster?” asked Puck.

That made Daniel look even more scared, but he shook his head.

“You should kick him in the balls,” Puck said. Most of the kids laughed.

“I’m not sure I could even _reach_ his balls,” Daniel admitted. That got a laugh, too.

“There’s a guy at my school who used to throw my boyfriend in the dumpster, almost every day,” Puck added.

Everybody got really quiet then. They gave each other uneasy looks.

“Go ahead,” said Cy, when another boy (his name tag read Trevor from Kennewick, Oregon) raised a hand. “You don’t have to ask permission to speak.”

“What happened to him?” asked Trevor. “That guy who did that?”

Puck shrugged. “He’s sitting here in the circle.”

They stared one another in the face curiously for a long time before somebody got it.

“You?” said Daniel.

“Me, and my best friend,” Puck said. “We both did. Kurt — the guy we threw into the dumpster — he says we were sublimating our desires into violent action. It took me a while to apologize. Then I made him dinner.”

“I guess he accepted your apology,” said Trevor, smiling. They laughed again.

“It sounds to me like you felt guilty about how you treated him,” Cy said. “Men need to be able to trust one another. That was important, apologizing like that. Nobody should be bullied or ridiculed.”

Puck sat there for several minutes while other guys talked, thinking about Kurt and all the ways he’d managed to show Puck how much he was loved and appreciated since then. Nobody commented when he had to get a tissue from the box next to Cy and blow his nose.

“Hunter Clarington,” said Hunter, “from Colorado Springs, Colorado. This is my second year helping out at Adventure Camp. You can come find me if you need an ear or a shoulder.”

“What are _you_ proud of?” asked Daniel tentatively. “And scared of?”

“I made the Dean’s list this year again. One more year of that and I can transfer to a more prestigious boarding school. And…” Hunter shrugged. “I suppose I’m scared of always being the skinny kid who never gets a chance to prove himself, because everyone else is bigger.”

“They’re just more badass than you,” murmured Puck.

Hunter flashed him a grin, nodding. “All right, yeah. I could stand to cultivate a little more… badassness.”

The group did several other activities to give everyone a chance to get to know one another, but Puck was only paying attention with half a brain. Most times somebody had to prompt or poke him to get him to respond.

“Tomorrow,” Cy told them, “we’re going to get up bright and early, have a good breakfast, and do some hiking. We’ve got a killer game of Capture the Flag planned before lunch. But right now…” He held out a stack of stapled packets and began passing them out. “We’re going to tell a story.”

Puck didn’t much care for the idea of reading, especially not when he was already so tired, but when he saw the familiar photocopied picture on the cover of the packet, he just stared at it.

 _The Missing Piece, by Shel Silverstein,_ it said.

 _[Author’s note: In case you’re not familiar with the story, you might want to watch:_<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mT0wKeJQvGk> _-amy]_

“Let’s take turns reading each page out loud,” said Cy. “But as we’re reading, I want you to think about why I chose this story and why we might be taking the time to read it now. Hunter, you go first, and we’ll continue around the circle.”

“It was missing a piece,” read Hunter. “And it was not happy. So it set off in search of its missing piece.”

Puck listened with a sense of dread akin to panic until it came around to him. He looked at the page before him. He didn’t need to read it. He knew it by heart. He just didn’t want to.

“Noah?” prompted Cy.

He cleared his throat. Then, using the tune his dad always had, he sang:

_Oh I’m looking for my missing piece  
_ _Over land and over seas  
_ _So grease my knees and fleece my bees  
_ _I’m looking for my missing piece._

Everybody chuckled at the funny voice he used, even the guys who’d looked a little disgruntled about reading a children’s book aloud.

“I’m guessing you’ve read this before,” said Cy.

“My dad read it to us a lot when I was growing up. Now I read it to the kids I babysit.”

“Remarkable. All right, go on.”

They made it around the circle three more times, with each boy reading, but each time they got to the part where the round dude sang about his missing piece, they looked at Puck, and he supplied the tune. The part where the piece had something in his mouth had them laughing out loud. By the end, they were all singing along.

“Okay,” Cy called, when they were done, grinning. “That was probably the most entertaining reading of that story I’ve ever heard. Thank you, Noah, for adding so much levity.” He made eye contact with each of them. “So… what does that story mean?”

They sat quietly for a while, thinking. Puck wasn’t sure if he wanted to share his own thoughts about the story, considering they were pretty complicated, but then Cy went on.

“This is a story about man’s disconnection with God.”

He felt his forehead draw down into a crease, creating the thing that Kurt called the _I-want_ line. _No, it’s not,_ he thought.

“The main character is us, searching for that essential connection we all are longing for, but can never attain in this world. So we fill the void within us with other things: food, alcohol, drugs, sex. But the truth is, no human being can fill that void.”

“That’s not what it’s about,” Puck said loudly. He let go of his grip on the script and tried to calm himself as they all turned to look at him. “It’s not,” he said again. “Dude, this guy, Shel Silverstein, he was totally fucked up. He swore all the time and I bet he did a ton of drugs. He definitely wasn’t writing about God.”

Cy gave him a little smile. “That’s the nice thing about a story, Noah. You can interpret it so many ways.”

Puck clenched his jaw to keep from yelling at Cy, because Cy clearly wasn’t going to hear him.

He went on with his lecture, but Puck ignored him. His mind was filled with memories of reading the story with his dad and Meemee, and later reading it himself to Sarah, and after that, reading it with Finn. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and scared shitless as usual, and realizing for the first time exactly what — or, rather, _who —_ he was missing. He hadn’t been able to look at Finn for days after that. And then, much later, the first morning waking up with Alex and Daphne and Nicole in their bed, and feeling more whole than he ever had — and months later, having the same experience with Kurt and Finn. He’d recited the sequel story to Adam over the phone. That first week after returning to Lima after meeting Adam in Santa Fe had been like discovering some essential piece of himself he hadn’t _known_ he was missing.

And then there was Blaine. He wasn’t sure he could think about Blaine without yelling at somebody.

While all the other boys were getting ready for bed, Puck sat on the edge of his bed and took out his guitar. He found Cy’s scrawled _Hello, My Name is Mr. Lucis_ sticker on to the bottom of his shoe, so he stuck it on the side of his Taylor’s battered case.

He ignored the curious looks from the other campers and let his fingers on the strings find Adam’s music. He felt awfully far away at the moment. Puck had never wanted more than he did at at that moment to hear Adam’s voice on the phone, saying _honey,_ for him.

_Hey  
_ _Slow it down  
_ _Whataya want from me  
_ _Yeah  
_ _I’m afraid  
_ _Whataya want from me_

Hunter actually came out of the bathroom while he was brushing his teeth to stand there and watch Puck play.

“Adam Lambert, right?” he said around the mouthful of toothpaste.

Puck nodded, still strumming. He couldn’t exactly stop.

“Not exactly the kind of role model we’re looking for here, is he? Though, really, I have my doubts about him.”

“Doubts?” Puck said.

“Whether or not he’s really as gay as he says he is.”

Puck snorted. “Are you kidding? Is there somebody _more_ sparkly out there?”

“Yeah, like I said. He’s trying too hard.”

 _Not hard enough,_ Puck thought. He pressed his fingers to the fretboard to still the sound, and it continued inside him, Adam’s voice singing on in the silence. He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t keep them that way. Whatever judgment he was feeling from Hunter or any of the other guys, it was nothing compared to the way it felt in his own head.

Hunter returned to the bathroom. When he came back out a few minutes later, he sat down next to Puck on the too-springy mattress.

“You looked kind of upset,” he said. “I wanted to let you know a lot of guys have trouble adjusting when they get here. But it gets easier.”

Puck shook his head. “I — don’t think I should be here.”

“Did somebody talk you into coming?”

“No. I wanted to.” He couldn’t even say _I didn’t know what was going to happen here,_ because somewhere inside, he was pretty sure he had known. Or maybe he’d told himself it wouldn’t matter.

From the perspective of this moment, he could see what he’d done, how he’d let his dad take him away from Kurt and Finn and Burt. It had been a crazy thing to leave like that, without talking to anybody. He’d had a kind of vague sense that it had been a bad idea, even as he’d gone through with it, but he didn’t know how to describe that without sounding like an idiot.

“I didn’t think it through,” was as close as he could come.

“You want to go home?”

Puck shrugged. “I don’t know. It was a long drive out here. My dad was pretty excited about me coming.”

“He wants you to be right with God.”

Hunter sounded so solemn and earnest. He was like a younger, cuter version of Ethan. He was actually a lot like Blaine — although Puck couldn’t imagine Blaine ever telling him stuff like this. Puck felt a sudden overwhelming wave of missing Blaine, and squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Hey,” Hunter said, gently. “You want me to pray with you?”

Puck set his guitar aside, trying to focus on what Hunter was saying, instead of on Adam singing in his head, or Blaine’s face. But it all kind of blended together, like it did when he tried to read. He sighed.

“I think I’m just tired,” he said. Hunter nodded, standing up.

“If you can’t sleep, come wake me up,” he said. “I’m the bed around the corner, by the door.”

Puck accepted Hunter’s smile, even though he knew he didn’t deserve anything like it, and he took off his jeans and climbed into the borrowed sleeping bag with a sense of something like peace. It was less weird than it could have been. Giving up control was comforting — even if he was giving it up to God instead of to Finn, or Adam, or Kurt.

The dreams hit him hard that night, like they hadn’t done in weeks: Blaine and toddler Beth, playing in the park; Blaine and tiny baby Beth,younger than she was now, snuggling on the porch swing. And Blaine, without Beth, looking up at him with infinite trust and love as Puck fucked him slowly.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, hard and desperately lonely, he didn’t bother Hunter. In his current state, it would have just been embarrassing, and there was nothing Hunter could have done to help him anyway.


	25. Duets, Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several new connections this chapter, but none of them are bad.

Will wasn’t sure who he was expecting to see at his door when he went to answer the buzzer, but it certainly wasn’t a breathless Emma. He took a step backward.

“Emma!” he exclaimed. “Are — are you okay? You look like you literally ran over here.”

Her face was flushed and her hair was sticking to her forehead. She impatiently ran a hand through it and smiled, laughing to herself.

“Just up the stairs,” she said. “I wanted to tell you first, and I didn’t want to do it over the phone.”

He closed the door behind her. “Tell me what?”

“Carl. He asked me. I mean, he asked me weeks ago, and he told me not to answer him then, but — I wasn’t sure what to say, at least at that point, and now, tonight, I did anyway. Answer him.” She took a deep breath, having run out of words, and laughed again. “I said yes.”

“You said yes?” he repeated. “To Carl? You mean, you’re getting married?”

“Yes.” Emma paused, putting both hands over her mouth. Her eyes were wide. “Oh my god. I said yes.”

“Well, that’s… that’s great.” Will tried to match her enthusiasm, reaching out his hands with a smile. She took them, squeezing them tightly.

“Yeah.” She sounded a little fainter now. He took her arm and led her into the living room, sitting beside her on the couch.

“So… forgive me if I ask the wrong thing, but… what does that mean for you, exactly? I mean with regards to your, uh. Your situation.” He hesitated. “You still don’t want to — to be intimate with him.”

She shook her head again. “At least, not right now. That doesn’t mean I might not want to, someday.”

“And now you… belong to him?”

She smiled. “I already did. This doesn’t change that. But it does mean we’ll be planning our lives together.”

He leaned back against the couch, trying not to frown. “But what kind of life does that mean for _you,_ Emma? Without a sexual relationship? You really think you’ll be happy in that kind of situation?”

“Yes,” she said patiently. “I really do. I’m not sure you understand how it feels to be controlled by rules _all the time,_ Will. You mostly do what you want. I do what I have to do to make things right. But when Carl is in charge, those rules go away. I can be — who I am, without worrying about everything I can’t control.”

“But you can be who you are with me?"

She studied his face. “I think we tried that already. If you recall, it didn’t exactly end well.”

“Well, no,” he admitted. “But... I've been thinking about that. Maybe we should try it again.” He could feel the heat on his own cheeks. “When I was… younger, with Toby, there were things I wouldn’t do. Because I was sure I wasn’t supposed to want them, that there was something wrong with me for wanting them.”

She nodded slowly. “What was it that changed?”

“I guess I was shocked out of my comfort zone.” Will thought back all those years ago, remembering how it had felt to walk into the lobby of the movie theater to see Rocky Horror. There had been men and women of all ages dressed in outrageous costumes and makeup and hanging all over one another, without regard to propriety or gender. “I went somewhere where the rules were different. Suddenly, everything was possible.”

He could see the doubt in her eyes. “Will, are you telling me not to marry Carl?”

“No — no. I’m asking you not to give up on getting what you want.” He reached for her hand, and without a thought, she took it. “Carl and I are in communication about this. I still think I can help. With the... the intimacy part.”

She looked down at their joined hands. “I couldn’t do it with you before, Will. What if I still can’t?”

“Then I’ll back off. I promise. But would you let me try again, once more? I have an idea.”

She gave him a curious glance. “Are you going to tell me what you’re planning?”

“Soon.” _As soon as I figure it out myself._

“And… Toby’s okay with it?”

Will maintained his smile. “He said I should focus on you. That he’s not going anywhere.”

“Well, that’s very generous of him.” Emma finally gave him a tentative smile in return. “I’ll wait, for now.”

“Thank you,” he said. He kissed her cheek, and she made a sweet little noise, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Congratulations.”

When Emma left, he took out the DVD and slid it into the player with some trepidation. The last time he’d tried to watch it alone, without Toby, he’d ended up a blubbery mess. But this time would be different. This time, he had a mission: to _open Emma up to absolute pleasure._ If anything could do that, it would be Rocky Horror.

* * *

Some days Toby had no one come to his study hall office hours at all, but today, he had two people. Sunshine he’d expected, but when Wade knocked on his door just as Sunshine was sitting down, he invited her in.

“Well, what a pleasure!” Toby hugged Wade, who eyed Sunshine shyly before taking a step into Toby’s office. “Come in, come in. Let me introduce the two of you.”

“I can go,” said Sunshine, rising to her feet, but Toby gestured for her to sit.

“No need. I’m hoping you’ll be workin’ together next year, anyway, if what Wade tells me is true.” He scooted his chair so that he was sitting facing both of them, away from his desk. “Wade was one of our few freshmen in VA last year.”

“I’m homeschooling this year,” said Wade. Sunshine nodded, biting her lip. “If everything goes okay, I’ll be back. I might have to come back as a sophomore, though.”

“Wonderful,” Toby beamed. “Sunshine transferred in at the beginning of the year. She’s got a hell of a voice.”

“I’m not a very good dancer, though,” she said. “Mr. Grey and Mr. Goolsby are helping me with that.”

Toby tried not to make a face at Mr. Goolsby’s name. Teaching dance at Carmel wasn’t anything like the way it had been last year with Shelby. Dustin had hardly made an effort to talk to Toby at all, much less collaborating with him on routines or including him in plans for regionals. “How’s ol’ Dustin doing?”

Sunshine hesitated. “Well… he was very nice to get my mother a place to live…”

“Yeah, and we’re very grateful you came to Carmel,” said Toby. “What about class? How’s that goin’ for you?”

“It’s all right, Mr. Grey.” She stood up, giving Wade a quick smile. “I really think I should go. It was nice meeting you, Wade.”

Wade watched her head out the door with raised eyebrows. “Why do I think there’s more to that story?”

“Sunshine is sweet, and talented.” Toby leaned back in his chair, resting his head in the cradle of his hands, and sighed. “She doesn’t want to say anything bad about anybody. Which is hard when the fella in question is such a prick.” He grinned at Wade’s expression. “I can say that to you because you’re not my student at the moment, or Dustin’s.”

“I suppose you’ll understand when I say I don’t really want to come back while he’s teaching here, Mr. Grey,” she said. “He scares me a little. Maria says he’s really hard on the kids in VA. Especially the — kids who are a little different.”

“Mmm. I haven’t heard any tales of outright homophobia, but I would believe it.” Toby snorted. “He ain’t so fond of me, either.”

Wade looked at him hopefully. “Is there any chance of Shelby coming back?”

“I can tell she’s enjoying her time at home with her daughter, but if you ask me? She’s getting antsy to get back in the studio.” Toby nodded at her. “And how about you? You feelin’ a little bit more yourself?”

“A little bit all the time,” Wade said, smiling. “I have a new therapist, one who’s helping me get ready for, you know, HRT and everything. My parents are meeting with us, too. They’ve been so great, but they’re still uncomfortable about me performing as a girl. It’s not that they’re embarrassed, just that they’re very protective of me. But I —“ She glanced at her lap, blushing. “I’m singing online. Just my voice, no video. People really like it, Mr. Grey.”

“I’m so happy to hear that, darlin’. You _look_ happy.”

“I am. I have a good group of friends online, too, on Holly’s old message board?” She gave him a sly grin. “I even have a boy who likes me.”

He grinned back. “No doubt!”

“Yeah, he’s cute, and he’s been mostly respectful and everything, but I’m taking it slow. I’m no pushover. He’s a friend.”

It sounded like she was talking herself through it, but her voice was firm. Toby nodded approval. “I’m sure you don’t need another adult tellin’ you what to do, so I’ll just say I’m proud of you for being careful with yourself. Let’s work on Mr. Goolsby, and stick with the plan of you coming back next year and rejoining Vocal Adrenaline, singin’ with the girls this time. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Wade said, smiling bravely.

“Fantastic. And you can always talk to me if you need anything in the meantime.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Grey.” She looked at him curiously as she stood up. “Not to be rude, but… you don’t look so good, yourself. Are you okay?”

He covered his reaction with a stretch. “Oh, you know me, I’m always too busy. I could use a little more sleep.”

That was certainly true. He hadn’t slept well since he’d told Will not to call back. There wasn’t anything easy about Will’s situation with Emma, but every day, he had to steel himself not to pick up the phone and tell him _forget it, it’s fine, you can do whatever you want with Emma, or anybody else._

 _Because it’s not about that,_ he reminded himself after Wade had gone. _You just don’t want Will doing that with somebody who can give him what you can’t._

It wasn’t a surprise to find out Will wanted kids. Toby knew they were going to have to have the conversation about that eventually, but he hadn’t thought it was going to come quite _this_ soon. He also knew he didn’t have a damn thing to offer Will in that department.

For the forty-seventh time, Toby firmly pushed thoughts of Will Schuester away. This time, instead of focusing on the choreography he was working up for his advanced students, he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number he hadn’t yet touched. An unfamiliar male voice answered.

“ _Howell, D.D.S and Lawton, attorney at law, how may I direct your call?”_

“Yes,” said Toby, with a sigh. “May I please speak with Davis Lawton?”

* * *

_Online: Jake, Mar, Ricky._

_Login 2010-10-23 21:13:44: Sarah. Mood: fucking pissed._

S: _Okay if I swear a lot?_

J: _fine by me. whadaya say mar_

M: _If it helps, I say go ahead? Ricky doesn’t swear._

R2: _No, but it’s fine if you do. I heard about your brother taking off for California, Sarah. That stinks._

S: _Yeah, well, it got worse. I hope nobody’s a Jew for Jesus on here._

J: _only jew on here is me. as far as I know theres no j-guy in my religion? this is our dads weirdness isnt it_

S: _Yeah. He took Noah to this place, I guess it’s supposed to be like camp but they try to take gay kids and make them straight?_

M: _*stunned silence*_

J: _what_

R2: _Sarah, I know I hardly know you, so maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but… that is really messed up. Nobody should be doing that to their own kid._

S: _No, you can totally say that. And honestly, Ricky, I think we know each other pretty well. I’ve said more stuff on here in the last couple weeks than I say to most people at all._

R2: _Yeah, trust me, I can relate. But this — jeez, Sarah. I didn’t even know there were places like that._

J: _you think he knew what it was when he went?_

S: _I didn’t think so, but now I’m starting to wonder. He was getting pretty into going to this group with my dad. I think he might have thought it would be good for him. Which, seriously, is typical Noah._

M: _Is there anything we can do to help? Other than lots of hugs? Oh, I forgot you don’t want those._

S: _Yeah, maybe I do now. No, there’s nothing you can do. But Jake might be able to, though._

J: _okay? I mean yeah of course what can I do_

S: _If I get on the bus to Mansfield after school tomorrow, I can be at the bus stop by dinner. Will your mom be there?_

J: _think so. but she might not be able to help, sar_

R2: _That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try, Jake. Ditto from me, Sarah, if there’s anything you need. I know Dayton’s kind of far._

S: _Thanks, Ricky. And it’s not so far. My brothers drive all the fuck over the country. And I’d go as far as I needed to go to get my brother back._

* * *

Kurt left American government without touching base with Finn. Finn didn’t follow him, so Kurt figured he wasn’t going to need to justify his absence. Walking out felt necessary somehow, like he had too many eyes on him already and he couldn’t handle one more pair of them watching him, not even if they were benign.

Kurt thought about heading to the attic for a few minutes alone before French, but instead he found his feet carrying him to the courtyard outside by the drama wing. Other than a scattering of butts on the ground, the courtyard was empty, and Kurt had the stone bench to himself.

It was enough space to allow him to let his guard down. He sat there for several minutes, trying to sort through his thoughts about Noah and Blaine and Adam and _everybody_ before he heard the gentle squeak of the door opening out from the hallway.

“Oh — Kurt!”

He looked up and fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief. “Hi, Sam,” he said. There was no point in trying to hide his red eyes and blotchy face.

Sam looked restless and uncomfortable, but he stayed there in the doorway, gesturing back into the hallway. “I can go, if you want.”

“No, no. It’s okay.” He gestured at the stone bench beside him. After a moment, Sam let the glass door swing shut and crunched through the gravel to join him there, allowing for a reasonable distance between them. He patted Kurt’s shoulder, somewhat awkwardly.

“You okay? You’re not okay,” he added immediately. “Of course you’re not. Puck’s gone.”

Kurt nodded, sniffing and staring at his lap. “Yeah.”

“And isn’t there another guy?”

He knew Sam didn’t mean Finn. That was still a secret from most people. “I was dating a boy at another school, but we’re not really together anymore.”

“No, not him, I mean your guy in California.”

He looked up quickly, startled. “How did you —?”

“The Coach. She told me there was a guy you and Puck saw sometimes and he was always on the road.” He looked somewhat impressed. “You’ve got a lot of boyfriends.”

“Well,” he said, then smiled. “I suppose more than one is _a lot._ Even without Noah — Puck.”

“It’s cool. You can have whatever.” He shrugged. “The Coach, she taught us to be respectful of all kinds of relationships.”

“She did?” Kurt looked at him more closely. “Taught who?”

“All the guys she was, you know.” He made a little ambiguous gesture. Kurt thought for a moment.

“Training?” he guessed.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, like that.”

Kurt supposed football training could get pretty personal, and there was no question that all the best teachers had a hand in their kids’ social and emotional lives. Sam shuffled his feet.

“Do _you_ have a coach?” he asked in a low voice.

“My friend Toby is kind of my dance coach. And I suppose Mr. Schue thinks he’s offering good advice, but I don’t listen to him like Finn does. I do have a therapist.”

“No — no. Not like that.” Sam looked a little red in the face now. “A _Coach._ Like… you know, somebody to tell you what you did right and wrong, and… deal with you.”

“Oh.” Kurt stared at him. He could feel his own face flushing. “You mean Coach Beiste, she — she’s your…?”

There were no words he could say at school that could encompass what he thought Sam might possibly be saying. Sam just bit his lip and nodded, but Kurt knew he couldn’t rely on assumptions.

“She disciplines you? With her, uh — with force?”

Another nod. “Only when she thinks I need it.”

“Wow.” Kurt rested a finger on his lips, his mind whirling. “Sam, I'm pretty sure she doesn't do that for any of the _other_ football players.”

He laughed. “No, I know. Me and her, it’s different. I came with her from Dublin, where she used to teach. She was my Coach there, too, and I’m not just talking football.”

“Okay, I do think I understand. So _this_ is the thing we had in common? We thought she meant… that you were gay.”

Sam’s head-shake was almost apologetic. “I only like girls. I’m not closed-minded, honestly,” he added. “I just don’t like guys that way. Not that I wouldn’t take orders from them, if they were giving them.”

Kurt had a sudden urge to use his Voice on Sam, just to see what he would do, but the urge passed just as quickly, leaving him feeling somewhat ashamed. He nodded slowly. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

“Well, it’s the Coach,” said Sam. “She trusts you. And Finn, too, right? The Coach said he would get it.”

Kurt nodded. “She’s been a good friend to Finn. She made some, um. Some leather for him.” He thought about Finn’s beautiful hand-tooled collar, sitting in its wooden box in the top of his closet, untouched for so long. She’d made Noah’s collar, too. It was currently in the drawer next to his bed, waiting for his return. “And for me, for… for my boy.”

He should have known better than to use that phrase in front of someone else. He immediately felt his eyes fill with tears all over again.

Sam looked concerned, putting out his hand, and then he froze when he realized what Kurt was saying. His eyes got wide.

“Oh, man. You mean _Puck_ is your — you’re _his_ Coach?”

“Was,” Kurt said. He took a couple deep breaths and pulled himself together. “I was… that. I can’t be sure what we are anymore. He’s going through a… a crisis of faith.”

Sam nodded soberly. “Yeah, I could definitely see that. That song Puck did in Glee? The Billy Joel one about dying young? He seemed kind of sad when he was singing it. And I don’t think that song’s supposed to be sad.” He grimaced. “Hey, man, I’m really sorry. It sucked to hear your boyfriend was in juvie, but knowing he was _yours,_ that’s…”

“Thanks.” The expression on Sam’s face made Kurt smile. He sat back, feeling his shoulders settle as he exhaled. “You know, it’s nice to be able to talk to somebody other than my family about this.”

Sam smiled back, looking somewhat relieved. “Yeah, I gotta say, when the Coach told me I wasn’t the only one at McKinley doing what we do? That was pretty cool. So you, and Finn, you’re both Coaches?”

Kurt tried not to giggle. “We use another word, but yeah, like that. And to answer your earlier question, we both have people who, uh, coach us. Not just as mentors. It’s part of our relationships.”

“That’s awesome.” Sam sounded kind of reverent. The way he was looking at Kurt... well, if Sam reacted like that to other boys, Kurt could see how someone could mistake him for not-straight. “I wish I had somebody like that.”

“Trust me, it’s not something I ever thought I would have," said Kurt. "Or even knew I wanted, for a long time.”

“Finn said Glee club would make me cool. I could use some cool, but this is more important. Football’s fun, and I like singing, but I don’t know how I’d get along without my Coach. My parents even moved here so I could come to McKinley, to stay with her.”

“Wow. That’s… very supportive of them.” Kurt eyed Sam. “Do they know… details? About how she helps you?”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded vigorously. “The Coach insisted on it. There’s no way she’d handle me that way unless they said it was okay."

“Oh.” Now he was starting to feel uncomfortable. “Your parents discipline you like that?"

"When I was a kid, sure. Not anymore. I mean, I trust my parents, but I _know_ the Coach can deal with me when I get stuck. She’s got a way, like, of seeing inside me, and figuring out what I need to help me be my best. If she uses discipline, it’s fair.” He made a cutting motion with his hand, like he was slicing bread.

“I guess it’s hard for me to think about adults disciplining minors and having it _actually_ be consensual,” Kurt said slowly.

“Consensual?You mean… like, I say yeah, that’s okay?” Sam shook his head, still smiling. “I did say that. And dude, you just told me Puck was doing the same thing with you? He’s a minor, right?”

“But I’m not an _adult,”_ he protested. “I’m just… me.”

Kurt watched the smile fall away from Sam’s lips, leaving him hesitant and a little restless. “Hey, you know, most of us looking for a Coach would kill for somebody like _you.”_

Kurt stared at him, speechless. Sam stood up, shuffling back toward the door in a manner so subtle Kurt never would have spotted it before. But now, he recognized it for what it was. _Deference._ Sam wasn’t going to turn his back to him. In Sam’s mind, Kurt was now in the same category as his own Coach. It was an unexpectedly heady and calming feeling.

“I’ve got to get to geometry,” he said. “But I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yes,” Kurt said softly. Then he straightened his back and raised his chin, and watched Sam bow his own head in response. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Sure,” he replied, flashing an accommodating smile. He might as well have said _yes, sir._ Kurt heard the words reverberate in the courtyard before Sam disappeared through the doors back into the hallway.

Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t looked at Blaine’s last text to him in weeks. Most days, thinking about Blaine made him too sad to consider it, but the conversation he’d just had with Sam had somehow left him fortified against the sadness. He tapped it with his thumb and read it again.

_1 text - Blaine Anderson  
_ _12:36 AM - There’s nobody like you, Kurt._

He felt the strength in his back, the drive that propelled him to stand and make the decision he’d been waffling over for days. He typed out a text of his own — not to Blaine, but to Carl.

 _I want to go with you to Irene’s coffeehouse,_ he said. _I need to see Blaine with my own eyes._

It didn’t take Carl long to respond. _You know he won’t recognize you._

 _I know,_ Kurt replied. _But I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some ambivalence about Sam's situation with Beiste, and even more about Sarah's (you'll see what I mean). I'm trying to let my subconscious work it out, and I absolutely love Beiste, but it's bothering me a little, in a similar way to the discomfort I felt about writing Carl and Finn. 
> 
> Regardless of what I write about, I'm just going to leave this statement here: consent is really important, folks, emotionally and legally. Minors cannot consent to being disciplined by adults. There's [plenty of evidence that spanking is bad for kids](https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/moral-landscapes/201309/research-spanking-it-s-bad-all-kids). I don't spank my own kids. I don't equate discipline of minors and adults doing so in a consenting relationship.


	26. Puck at Adventure Camp, Part 2

The air seemed somehow cleaner in the mountains. Maybe it really was; Puck didn’t know. It did make for some spectacular views, though. Whatever pictures of mountains he’d seen in the brochure, they had nothing on the actual view _from_ a mountain.

He stood holding his sweaty blue jersey, looking over the edge of the road beside the activities building into a dramatic ravine, and whistled.

“Not much like Ohio, I bet.” Hunter slipped his own blue jersey off and came to stand beside Puck, mopping his forehead.

“Nope. It’s pretty flat there.”

Hunter moved closer to the edge, close enough that Puck had to fight an urge to grab him and pull him away. He grinned at Puck over his shoulder.

“Don’t like heights?”

“Don’t like _falling,”_ he muttered. “Would you… just take a couple steps back?”

“I’m fine. I’ve walked this road dozens of times.” He balanced along the edge of the ravine, pretending to slip at one point, then laughed when Puck swore and grabbed for him. “Don’t worry.”

“Fuck you,” Puck protested. “Get the hell away from there!”

“You weren’t worried about falling when we were playing Capture the Flag.”

“It’s different. There was a job.” He had no other explanation. “Come on, I’m starving. What’s next?”

“Lunch,” said Hunter, falling into step beside him, “then scripture study, then we break out into groups for trust exercises.”

“Like the kind where we let somebody catch us?”

“Different than that.” Hunter’s smile was faint. “Where we talk about all the things we’re missing and how we face them, together.”

The lunch was just as mediocre as dinner had been. The guys in the kitchen, who Puck had learned were named Juan Pablo and Felipe, welcomed his help in cleaning up afterward. He didn’t feel like he needed it as much as he had the night before, but it calmed him anyway. Hunter pitched in a little, too, carrying dishes into the kitchen and making a stack. Cy gave them both another approving nod.

He spent the rest of lunch helping the Banana Boat delivery guy unpack crates of almost-ripe bananas through the back door into the kitchen. The bearded delivery guy looked at him a little funny.

“You’re not working here, are you?” he asked.

“No,” said Puck. “I’m here for Adventure Camp.”

“Adventure Camp, huh?” The guy rubbed his tattooed neck, peering out from the kitchen into the eating hall. He dropped his voice. “You kids okay?”

“Yeah. I think so. I mean, yeah, sure. We’re okay.”

Puck must have looked as conflicted as he felt, because the guy came in a little closer. Juan Pablo and Felipe watched them both with worried eyes.

“It’s just, I heard stories about this place,” the delivery guy said quietly. “I know it’s not any of my business, but if something funny is going on with you kids… you can say something to me, all right?”

Puck had never been one to ask grownups for help, not even when it was social services. _I’m not a snitch,_ he thought. But in this case, it was the grownups who were doing the shady things — and the kids were kind of asking them to do them, or at least he was. It was a weird position to be in.

“I think we’re okay,” he said at last. “I am, anyway. But thanks.”

“Okay,” said the guy. “It’s just, my kid’s gay, all right? And I think he’s great. He don’t need anybody telling him he needs to change.”

“Even God?” Puck couldn’t help asking.

“Especially not him,” he said emphatically. “The Bible says he made my kid in his image, right? I think he made my kid just the way he should be.”

Puck was able to avoid having to read out loud during scripture study by strategically leaving to use the bathroom just before his turn around the circle. By the time he got back, they were already halfway around again. He mostly tuned out the conversation, which seemed to be a lot like the ones they’d had in his dad’s men’s group back in Akron.

The small groups, however, presented a different issue, one he hadn’t expected to encounter.

“Many of you are here because you want to learn how to have healthy relationships with other boys,” Cy said to all of them. “What you need to do is find a safe way to be with one another while you begin to sort through the things in your life that support that goal and those things that are standing in your way. The first thing you’ll do, alone or in your group, is to name some things you want to let go of. Then I’ll show you a way you can help one another in the process.”

“Anybody have something they want to let go?” Hunter asked their group. Trevor and Puck looked at one another.

“Fear?” Trevor said tentatively.

“More concrete than that. Is it a person who scares you? An event?”

Puck sat with this question while the others named the people and situations they wanted to eliminate from their lives. Most of them said they wanted to erase homosexual feelings or thinking about other guys. When they got back to him, he cleared his throat.

“I think maybe… I need to let go of my boyfriend Blaine.”

Hunter regarded him dispassionately. “Only him?” he said. Puck knew he meant _not the other boyfriends, too?_

“His dad won’t let me see him anymore.” He tried to keep any note of whining out of his voice, no matter how much frustration and despair he might feel about the situation. “If Blaine can’t have me — if I _have_ to let go — I think it’s better if Blaine doesn’t think he has a choice.”

“Are you sure?” asked Trevor.

“No,” said Puck. “But it’s what I would want my boyfriend to do for me.” He didn’t specify which boyfriend, and he knew it wouldn’t occur to anyone except Hunter to think he didn’t mean Blaine.

“I’ve never had anything close to a boyfriend,” Trevor said glumly. “But maybe like you’re saying, it’s better if I don’t know what I’m missing.”

“That’s not exactly what I mean,” said Puck. “I’ve done lots of things with lots of different guys, and I don’t regret most of them, even if I don’t ever get to do them again.”

Trevor sat forward with a hungry, wistful expression. “What _do_ you regret?”

“Mostly stupid stuff. Stuff I should have known better than to try. There was this one time, I went to Fight Club in a nearby town. Beat the crap out of some guy, and got the crap beat out of me, too, until we were all riled up. Then some random guy propositioned me. Took me into the bathroom at the county park and blew me.”

“Whoa,” Trevor breathed.

“Yeah, it was pretty fucked up. I wish I hadn’t done that.”

All the guys in their small group looked pretty uncomfortable and squirmy after that. One of them ventured to ask him, “How did you find other boys who wanted to do… stuff with you?”

“That’s not really our goal here,” Hunter said, but Puck just grinned.

“Everybody wants to do stuff with me,” he said. “Boys and girls. They always have. I mostly just went for it. Except for when it came to those people who really mattered. I was too freaked out about wrecking what we had. Then I didn’t say anything.”

The other boys nodded understanding. Hunter frowned, but before he could say anything else, Cy called their attention up to the front again.

“There is a Talmudic concept of _teshuvah_ ,” he said, “which means turning away from transgression in one’s past. That’s what we’re doing here. It’s a sacred act. Unwanted same-sex attraction comes from an emotional deficit around same-gender bonding. It comes oftentimes from this sense of deficit in our inner sense of masculinity. When we try to close that gap romantically, we fail, because it doesn’t address the very thing we’re hoping to address, which is loneliness. Right now, we’re going to give you a way to help you heal some of that loneliness.”

Puck’s own memories of last night’s dreams of Blaine were very close to the surface, and Cy’s words made him ache. He could see Trevor had tears in his eyes.

“Pair up with another member of your small group,” said Cy. Trevor turned to him with a questioning look, and Puck nodded. He came to stand close to Puck, looking restless, as Cy went on. “Now, decide who’s going to be the giver and who’s going to be the receiver.”

Now Trevor was positively panicked. “What is he talking about?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” said Puck, “but how about I be the receiver?” He wasn’t about to make a joke that that was his favorite role anyway. Trevor nodded, swallowing.

“Givers, you’re going to sit here on the rug,” Cy instructed. “Then you’re going to open yourself up to hold your partner, like this.” He sat down, spreading his legs wide to make room, while another one of the counselors sat in front of him, resting back against him like a lounge chair.

Now Puck was the one to feel choked by his distress. Finn often held him like this, and Kurt. When Trevor sat down and looked up at him in consternation, Puck had to struggle through a bout of near-panic before he could make himself comply.

“You okay?” Trevor asked nervously.

“Yeah,” Puck replied in a low voice. “This is just… familiar.”

The lights dimmed as soothing music began to play in the background, and Cy’s voice instructed them: “Relax into the embrace of your brother, and know you are safe. This is healthy touch.”

_How could anyone ever tell you that you were anything less than beautiful?  
_ _How could anyone ever tell you you were less than whole?  
_ _How could anyone fail to notice that your loving is a miracle  
_ _How deeply you’re connected to my soul?_

Puck could hear the sighs and a few sobs of the boys around them. He could tell from his posture and breathing that Trevor was even more uncomfortable than he was, and without thinking about it, he drew Trevor’s arms around his chest. He could feel Trevor’s unmistakable erection pressed up against the small of his back.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor murmured into his ear, sounding horrified. “I — I didn’t mean to.”

“Dude, no, it’s fine.” He turned in Trevor’s arms to face him. “It happens, right?”

“Not unless you’re messed up,” said Trevor fervently.

Puck frowned. “You really think that’s true?”

The boy nodded. “Don’t you?”

Puck’s immediate impulse was to turn around and kiss Trevor until he stopped thinking that way, but obviously that wouldn’t have gone over well. He couldn’t help but wonder why _he_ didn’t think it was wrong. If Cy and his dad and all these other guys thought so, why didn’t he? Maybe there really was something messed up inside him.

Maybe he really was… _bad._

* * *

Before bed that night, Puck played  [Mood for A Day](http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LY0c6qc95oI) on his guitar. Some of the other boys stopped to listen. It seemed to calm them, too.

Hunter paused by his cot, just as he had the night before. What was different tonight was the expression on his face. Puck wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

Puck shrugged. “Pretty sucky.”

Hunter just nodded. “I’m sorry. Well… good night.”

Puck did wake up again later. It was dark, and the rest of the bunk was silent and still. The only sound other than his own harsh breathing was an occasional sigh from one of the other sleepers in the hall.

“Noah?” called a soft voice by the door. Puck saw Hunter standing there.

“I’m here,” he called back.

He stood and made his careful, fumbling way in the dark around the corner to Hunter’s cot. He couldn’t see Hunter’s expression from where he was standing, silhouetted in the light from the bathroom.

“Trouble sleeping? You were talking in your sleep.”

“I have dreams.” Puck ran a hand over his face, trying to clear the memories.

“Bad ones?” asked Hunter. He sat down on the edge of his bed, and Puck sat with him.

“Sometimes. They make me miss things. People.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“All of them. But yeah, him especially.”

Hunter looked out at the sleeping room, then back to Puck. “You can lie down here, with me. If you want.”

It made Puck want to cry, the way Hunter was being so good to him. He wanted to tell him, _don’t bother, it’s not going to work, I’m not going to change._ But he nodded, stretching out on his side on the edge of Hunter’s bed. Hunter’s warmth beside him felt familiar enough that he was able to close his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he felt the metal bed frame moving rhythmically beneath him. Without thinking, he put a hand out and touched Hunter’s leg where it lay beside him. Hunter stopped his action immediately.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I thought you were asleep.”

Puck didn’t even question what Hunter was saying, or wonder about what he’d said earlier about not being even remotely bicurious. He just put his hand over Hunter’s through his pajama pants, making him gasp.

“Lemme take care of that for you,” Puck murmured.

Hunter’s hand fell away as Puck’s slid under the elastic of his waistband and resumed stroking where Hunter had left off. He was already hard and leaking. Puck had to wonder how long Hunter had waited before giving in. He felt an unfamiliar twinge of guilt.

“Do you — want me to stop?” he asked.

“No,” Hunter said immediately. “Don’t stop.”

For a moment Puck considered offering him a blowjob. It wasn’t like it had been with the creepy guy at Fight Club. Hunter had been good to him. It was almost beside the point that he was hot, or close to Puck’s age, or that he’d claimed to be straight. When Hunter tensed up and made a desperate panicked noise, he said, “Just hang on.”

Hunter didn’t grab his arm, but when he came, he thrust almost hard enough to propel them both off the bed. They both lay there, panting.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Hunter said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve never — with another person.”

Puck withdrew his hand, suddenly uneasy. All he could think about was Blaine, saying the same thing at Masque. That time, he’d stopped, and hadn’t pushed Blaine. He’d felt proud about not pushing him.

“Do you wish I hadn’t?” he asked.

“No.” Hunter sighed. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t want it.”

“I don’t get that,” said Puck. “When I want something, I just… I go for it. I mean, if the other person wants it too.” He looked over at Hunter in the dark. “So I guess you’re a little curious after all?”

“No,” said Hunter in a low voice. “I — I know exactly what I want.”

He reached an arm over, and Hunter rolled into him, shaking. His confident self seemed to be gone. Puck sighed, holding him in a tight hug.

“I wish I could tell you it’s gonna be better next time.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if there will be a next time,” Hunter said miserably. “I shouldn’t even have done this. At least now I’ll have the memory of it.”

“You don’t think it’s worse that way, if you don’t ever have it again? To remember?”

“That way I can dream about it.” Hunter’s voice dropped to nothing. “Okay… I already _do_ dream about it. But my dreams will be better because of… what we did.”

They were quiet for a moment. Then Hunter sighed.

“I don’t know if it’s possible to sin in your dreams.”

“I dream about my daughter,” Puck said.

“Really?” Hunter rested his head on Puck’s shoulder. “That’s sweet. You’re an amazing guy, Noah.”

He closed his eyes. “Don’t know about that. I’m… bad. I’m trying not to be.”

“I guess we all are. We just have to ask forgiveness.”

 _But I won’t,_ thought Puck. _You don’t get it. I don’t want anyone’s forgiveness. That’s what makes me bad._


	27. Duets, Part 5

Finn was laughing out loud when he approached Kurt after Mike and Tina performed their comedic duet in Glee. It was hard for Kurt to hear that laughter and see that smile without reacting.

“Wow.” He shook his head admiringly, watching over his shoulder as Tina hugged Mike and twirled him around. “That was really great. Okay, maybe he really _can’t_ sing, but… I sometimes forget how good he is at what he _can_ do. Mike’s a hell of a dancer.”

“They were funny.” Kurt watched Finn’s eyes cover the ground between them and Mike. It made him blink a little. By the time he thought about saying anything about it, Finn’s gaze had returned to him.

“Okay if I take the bus today?”

Finn’s voice was steady, but Kurt though he heard something in it. He looked carefully at Finn.

“I’ll drive you over to Carl’s,” he said quietly, “if you need a ride.”

He watched as Finn’s face went red. “No — no! I mean… I’ve sure as hell been thinking about it, but… I’m not ready to see him yet. Not like that.”

“I know.” He hesitated, aware of just how many of their friends were within listening distance, and finally dropped his voice to a whisper before leaning in to Finn. “I sent him a text earlier.”

“You — okay?” Finn looked startled, and a little wary.

“I told him I want to go with him to the coffeehouse the next time he goes. To see Blaine.”

Finn didn’t flinch at Blaine’s name, but he was getting pretty good at his school poker face, so Kurt wasn’t sure he trusted what he saw. It was probably just as well. He nodded.

“I know I said I couldn’t do it,” Kurt said, hearing his voice come out low and quick and more desperate than he’d thought he was feeling, “but I think I _have_ to see him. I have to see if what Santana and Carl and Ms. Pillsbury saw was really —“

“Kurt,” said Finn. Kurt stopped talking. His face was so gentle. “It’s okay.”

Kurt pressed his lips together on the tears that threatened. He was almost grateful when Finn walked away. All this crying at school was playing havoc with his complexion.

Brad had vanished after Glee. It took a while for everyone else to drift away. Kurt took the opportunity to sit at the vacant piano and put his fingers on the keys, playing chord progressions to calm himself down. For several minutes, he thought he was alone in the choir room. He was halfway through his song for Adam before he realized Rachel was standing there, listening.

“Don’t stop,” she urged when he jerked to a halt. “Kurt, that was beautiful.”

“Thanks.” He remembered just how anxious he’d once been about sharing that song with _anyone,_ especially with Adam. Now, he’d played it at school without a thought. When he smiled, she smiled back and sat down on the bench beside him while he played the rest. She applauded at the end.

“Was that your composition?”

Kurt nodded. She looked honestly impressed.

“You’re very talented.” Rachel sounded wistful.

“Thank you. So are you.”

She sighed. “Yes, well, that may be, but talent isn’t getting me very far with Finn. We originally rehearsed a wonderful duet together. We definitely would have won the competition with it. Then we got into all these arguments about winning and honesty and relationships, and now he doesn’t want to do a duet with me at all.”

“It’s not about you, Rach,” Kurt said. “I mean, okay, maybe Finn is confused about the way things are between the two of you, but that’s not the reason he doesn’t want to do a duet with you. This is about Noah.”

She nodded, stroking her fingertips over the worn yellow wood of the piano. “He said things weren’t going so well. Have you talked to him? How much longer does he have to stay in juvie?”

“We… don’t know.” As much as he didn’t like lying to Rachel, he wasn’t about to explain what little he knew about what was going on with Puck. That would _definitely_ get him crying again. “We’re all worried about him. I think Finn’s more worried than he realizes. So don’t feel bad if he’s distracted from school things right now. He could use a little space.”

“I’m trying,” she said softly. “It’s just… I miss him. Even when he’s right there, he’s somewhere else. I’m lonely for _him.”_

“Finn has a lot of personal responsibilities competing for his attention.”

“I know! And I don’t do so well with competition.” She picked up Brad’s sheet music and began collating it. It looked like organizing was Rachel’s nervous habit.

“It’s really not competition, Rach. Not with us.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. For me, it _is._ It has to be competition — and in a group, it’s even more so. Everybody’s automatically out to get me. I have to be the leader, or else I get stepped on and crushed. I can’t trust a group. I just feel — left out.”

The flood of words stopped as abruptly as they’d begun. Kurt eyed her as she sat there, looking embarrassed.

“I don’t want you to feel that way,” he said softly. “You know _I’m_ not your competition, right?”

“It’s not like you can fix it, Kurt. It’s just the way it is for me.” Her eyes flickered over the floor. “I don’t really belong anywhere. But with him, I feel… accepted. More than that.”

“Cherished,” said Kurt. She looked up in surprise, then smiled, nodding.

“Yes. Do you feel that way with him too?”

“Yes.” He laughed to himself. “I figured out last year that… pairing off isn’t exactly my thing? It’s not what satisfies me the most, anyway. But Finn, he always makes me feel just the right kind of happy.”

She touched his fingers with hers, and he took them, holding her hand.

“We have something in common, then,” she said. “How we feel about Finn.”

It wasn’t a surprise, but Kurt felt suddenly aware of that particular connection between them in a way he hadn’t been before. He sat there looking at her for a long time. It could have been weird, but she did the same thing, the two of them studying one another curiously, without judgment.

“I think we should sing a duet,” he said.

“The competition is over.”

“I know. This would be _our_ duet, for — how we both feel about somebody.” He nodded at her astonished expression. “Nobody would make assumptions about you and me singing together. Everybody knows I’m gay. I’m not a threat.”

“You said.” Her smile was tentative. “But he would know.”

He nodded. “He’d be the only one, but… it would mean something. To me, too.”

With only a little awkwardness, Rachel reached out and hugged him. Kurt was surprised to find himself hugging her back. “Okay. Yes. I would love to.”

“I remember you have an amazing record collection at your house? Maybe I could come over and we could choose a song together.”

Her eyes sparkled a little. “Actually, I already have _two_ ideas.”

* * *

It was surprisingly difficult for Sarah to get Tatenui to agree to let her take the bus to Mansfield to see Jake. It made Sarah more than a little grumpy. She wasn’t used to Tatenui saying no to her.

“You’ve got to forgive me for not exactly trusting the older Puckermans a whole lot right now,” he told her. “Or the middle younger one, for that matter.”

“Jake’s mom’s not a Puckerman,” she insisted, shoving the phone at him. “She’s a Roth. And she doesn’t like my dad any more than you do. Come on, she can help.”

They talked to Jake’s mom for a long time, Carole on one extension and Tatenui on another, and they shut the doors firmly and wouldn’t let her listen on the third extension in the upstairs sitting room. She sat in her bedroom for two minutes, then wandered restlessly through the house from room to room, listening with half an ear to Kurt and Rachel rehearsing their mashup of “Come On Get Happy” and “Happy Days are Here Again.”

Finn was in his own room, lying on his back in the middle of his bed and quizzing himself on Spanish vocabulary.

“I can help with that,” she said. He gave her a funny look.

“You’ve only taken Spanish for two months.”

“I know as much as Noah. _Déme esas páginas.”_ She held out an imperious hand, and he gave her the papers, grinning. It might have been the first time she’d seen him smile since Noah had taken off, but she didn’t mention that.

He knew the meaning of most of the words, even if his pronunciation was terrible. Every now and then, they’d pause and listen to Rachel and Kurt. She could hear them stop to argue, each one talking over the other, and then dissolve into laughter, and eventually sing another stanza.

“They sound really good together,” she said. Finn nodded.

“We had this duet competition in Glee. I’m glad they’re doing one.”

“Who did you sing a duet with?”

Finn shook his head, looking away. “Nobody. Rachel, originally, but then… we sang something else, just so we’d lose. It was complicated. Duets…” He waved a hand at the wall. “I’m not so good at those.”

“You’ve got a lot of duets,” she said. “Even though you have a quartet, there’s always duets too.”

“Yeah, well.” He gave her a restless shrug. “When it’s a competition, that automatically means you end up with a whole bunch of losers.”

“So?”

He sighed. “So, some people really hate to lose.”

“What about you?”

“I hate to see people I care about lose.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I hope you never have to play football against Blaine, then.”

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening.” He wasn’t smiling anymore. She wanted to hug him or something, but he didn’t look like he was in the mood for a hug.

“I’m sorry Noah’s such a screw-up.”

He looked up at her, surprised. “That’s not _your_ fault, Sarah.”

“It used to be just us,” she said. “After my dad left, my mom was kind of useless for a long time. Me and Noah, we did whatever needed to be done to keep her out of trouble. We were a really good duet. But a lot of that went away when you and Kurt took over. And then he got his new duets with Blaine and Bethie.”

Kurt sang a sour note, and he and Rachel started arguing again, but Finn didn’t appear to be listening to them. He was watching her.

“How old were you when your dad left?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Six. It was after Noah got back from soccer camp. I spent the summer with Blaine and Frances when Meemee took off, and then my dad… I don’t know, I guess he gave up. He was gone by fall.”

Finn almost smiled when she mentioned Blaine as her babysitter, but his face got serious again quickly. “But you forgave him.”

“Eventually.” She snorted. “I’m such a sucker.”

“You weren’t the only one who was starting to believe he had Noah’s best interests at heart.”

Hearing him say _Noah_ like that made her heart beat funny in her chest. “You don’t call him that,” she said, a little too loudly.

“I do, though.” That wasn’t a smile on his lips, even though the corners were going up. “Sometimes. When he needs to hear it.”

She couldn’t think about it right now. “And _you’ve_ got duets coming out your ears. You’ve got one with Noah, and one with Kurt, and one with Carl. And Blaine. And Rachel, right?”

“Yes,” he said. He looked tired. “Rachel.”

“Only some of them are solos right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying… it’s harder _not_ being needed than being needed, sometimes.” She jerked her thumb at the door, indicating the voices singing together down the hallway. “Case in point.”

Finn swiveled his gaze toward the door and stared at it. “You mean… you think that’s why Kurt is doing this stuff with Rachel? Because he — he needs to be needed?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s not the only one, right?”

“I _like_ Rachel,” he said. Then he stopped. The confused expression on his face almost made her laugh, but that would have been super mean.

“Okay, Sarah.” She looked up to see Tatenui standing in the door, looking defeated.

“Okay?” she said.

“You win. You can go see Jake on the bus tomorrow after school.”

She scrambled to her feet and hugged him, not bothering to be careful not to squeeze too hard. She was too small to do any kind of damage, even if he was still recovering from his heart attack. He hugged her back.

“It’s not about winning,” she said. “I’m doing this for Noah.”

“I know.” He pulled back far enough to frown at her. “But I don’t want you to feel bad if it doesn’t help.”

She scowled back. “It’s gonna help.”

“You might as well listen to her,” said Finn. “She’s smart.”

“I already knew that,” Tatenui murmured. He brushed her hair out of her face. “But smart’s not always enough to fix other people’s stupid.”

“It’s my part of the duet,” she said. “I’m just coming in when I’m supposed to.”

* * *

Jake and Jake’s mom, Tanisha, met Sarah at the bus stop. Jake leaned over across the back seat to open the door for her.

“Thanks,” she said to Tanisha right away. Her face in the rear-view mirror looked a lot like Jake’s.

“Don’t thank me yet, Sarah. I’m a police officer, not a vigilante. Your brother’s in a lot of trouble, but so far, it appears to be legal.”

“She figured out where he is,” Jake said. “Where that camp is, anyway.”

Sarah felt a pulse of excitement in her stomach as he showed her a route into the mountains of Oregon on his printed map. “That’s a long drive. Dad’s even more nuts than I thought he was.”

“There aren’t too many organizations who aim to do something like this,” said Tanisha with a look of disgust. “Trying to change kids from the inside out. If you ask me, they’re messing with things they shouldn’t be allowed to touch, no matter what they think about being gay. It’s not right.”

“I read that web site, Sar. He had to agree to be there, to consent. Both Dad and him.” Jake actually looked worried. It was more emotion than she was used to seeing from him. “Do you think Noah would really say yes to something like this?”

“Here’s the thing about Noah,” she said. “He has a hard time figuring out what he wants. He’s really stubborn and doesn’t like to follow rules. But if somebody he cares about tells him, _this is what you should do,_ he’s probably going to listen. Which is why Finn and Kurt are good for him, because they have way better judgment than he does.”

Jake’s house was all by itself at the end of a dirt road. They parked on the long gravel driveway and were met by an enormous orange cat on the way in. Jake stopped to pick him up, absently petting a bent ear.

“Longfellow always knows when people are freaking out about something,” he said.

“What are you freaking out about?” she asked. She accepted the armful of cat uncertainly, but she mimicked the way Jake had held him, and he seemed to tolerate her.

Jake made a face. “I’ll tell you later. I’m really not ready for my mom to hear about that.”

Sarah petted Longfellow while Tanisha showed her the information she’d gathered about the J4J organization. It supported what Lauren had discovered about their “adventure camp.”

“How did you figure out where it was?” Sarah asked.

“We followed up a lead we got from a concerned delivery guy,” Tanisha said. “Apparently he brings bananas up the mountain to their kitchen every week. He didn’t have specific complaints, but what he gave them is enough for the local police department to justify making a visit and asking some questions. If Noah is there, they’ll find him.”

Sarah nodded, nibbling on the pita chips Jake had put in front of her. “And then what?”

“Well, I think that depends on what they find when they’re there. If this group has been able to stay under the radar all this time, they’re probably being careful to follow the letter of the law. But even if they’re not doing anything illegal, there might be cause to send any children home while the police are making an investigation.” She looked sympathetic. “What happens after Noah comes home is, unfortunately, up to your father.”

She swallowed. “You mean what happens to _us._ He could take us away from Tatenui and Carole.”

Tanisha nodded. “As long as he’s your legal guardian, yes. He could.”

Sarah didn’t say anything more. Talking about running away in front of a police officer, no matter how nice she was, wasn’t going to help anybody.

Jake brought her downstairs to show her his dance studio. She had watched some of his YouTube dance videos, which were amazing, but seeing him dance live was way more awesome. He did a classical ballet routine Toby had taught him.

“What’s this?” she asked, picking up a pile of sheet music from the card table in the corner. Jake dropped into the chair next to her and snatched it back.

“It’s nothing.” His face was more red than it should have been, even after the exertion of dancing.

“Dude. You’ve been listening to me talk about all sorts of stuff online for the past couple weeks. You can’t give me _nothing.”_

“Well, okay.” He dropped his voice, glancing nervously at the stairs. “It’s… I’ve been singing.”

“Singing?”

“With Katie, from our online group. There’s this web site where you can add your voice to somebody else’s, and record them together? She gave me a link to hers.” He shook his head, his eyes big. “Sarah, she is _amazing._ ”

“Toby’s her dance teacher, at school, right? Vocal Adrenaline. He’s a singer, too.” She watched him curiously. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“I wasn’t sure I could either, but she’s been helping me.”

“Well, come on?” Sarah gestured toward the computer. “Aren’t you going to play it for me?”

“Shit,” he muttered, but he loaded the web site. “You can’t tell her I let you hear it. You know what she said about the kids at school finding out, about her singing like a girl. She still goes by _Wade_ in front of them.”

Sarah sat there and listened with her mouth hanging open from the first note of Katie’s rendition of Rihanna’s “Only Girl in the World.” When Jake’s harmonies came in, he covered his face, turning away.

“Hey, you sound good!” Sarah protested, tugging his hand away. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about sounding like _that_. I was all prepared to tell you something nice but you actually sound _good,_ Jake.”

“I’m not embarrassed about how I sound,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’m embarrassed about — about how I feel about her.”

“Oh!” She paused, trying to cover up her surprise, then shrugged. “Well, that’s okay, too?”

“Is it? I mean, yeah, I like her a lot. She’s smart, and wicked talented. But I’m freaking out because she’s trans and I don’t know what that means about _me._ Like, if I think she’s hot, am I gay, or what? And if I’m not, what would we even _do_ together?”

“Jake, just — for fuck’s sake, slow down.” Sarah couldn’t help laughing. She kept hold of his hand, and gave it a squeeze. “First of all, how likely is it that you’re even going to get a chance to find out? She lives in Akron. Have you talked to her about it?”

“Kind of?” He sighed, his whole body deflating, and he stared at the screen, displaying the visual of their two intermingling audio tracks. “It’s pretty stupid, isn’t it, considering I haven’t ever been in the same room with her. But we’ve talked, voices and Skype and text, and… I told her I like her. At least she doesn’t think I’m totally lame, even though I’m younger than she is.”

“No way. She wouldn’t even think that. She loves you.”

Jake went immediately red, and he looked away again. “Would you stop?”

“You can’t deny it. I barely know her and I can tell.” She didn’t poke Jake or anything, but he flinched a little like she had. “Don’t you _all_ love each other? Everybody in that group?”

He didn’t respond. After another few moments of restless sitting, he turned off the computer and switched on his stereo instead, some mindless thumping beat. Immediately he threw his body into motion on the dance floor. This kind of dancing was entirely different from the ballet he’d done earlier, but it was just as fluid and powerful. It was hard not to stare.

“Has she seen you dance?” she called.

“Online,” he replied, without stopping.

“How about the rest of them?”

“How the hell would I know?”

That meant _no._ The look of concentration on Jake’s face as he danced was familiar, but she wasn’t sure where she’d seen it before.

“So what if you were gay?” she said. “Nobody who mattered would care.”

“ _I_ care,” he shouted.

That made her mad. “You mean you think our dad’s right?”

He was facing the mirror on the far wall, and he met her eyes in the reflection. “No! Look, it’s not because I think being gay is wrong. It’s because I never thought I was before. And if I’m wrong about that, then — then maybe I’m missing other things, too. Things I _should_ have realized about me.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. I guess that does sound kind of scary. You really think you should have all the answers?”

“Don’t you?” he shot back.

She laughed. “Point.”

Sarah waited for Jake to get the dancing out of his system. After the music ended, he stood beside her, breathing hard, then took a long drink of Gatorade while he toweled off his sweaty neck.

“I told you already,” he said. He sounded a lot more calm. “I don’t think being gay is wrong. I think what Dad is doing to Noah is totally shitty.”

“But you think everybody would look at you different if they knew you were hot for Katie.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged hopelessly. “Everybody already thinks I’m gay because I’m a dancer.”

“How do you think _she’d_ look at you?”

He let out a little laugh. “She already does look at me like that,” he admitted. “At least over Skype.”

“I don’t think being attracted to a girl means you’re gay,” she said. “No matter what kind of girl she is. And I don’t think you’ll really know if you’re attracted to her until you’re in the same place with her. Until then, just keep talking to her.”

“Yeah.” He sighed as he dropped to the floor next to her. Then he added, “What about how everybody else in the group is gonna feel about this?”

To anyone else, she probably would have said _it’s not anybody else’s business,_ but in this case, it clearly was. It was true, Sarah had only been part of Jake and Mar and Ry and Ricky and Katie’s conversations for a few weeks, but the kind of affection they had for one another seemed to cross friendship boundaries in much the same way Finn and Kurt and Noah’s did.

 _And mine and Francie’s,_ she thought. She cleared her throat.

“My brothers have this rule,” she said. “No lying, no hiding.”

“No lying, no hiding,” Jake echoed.

She nodded. “It’s pretty much their only rule. Well, that, plus using condoms with everybody else.”

“Good rules,” said Jake, nodding. She grinned at him.

“Also? I kissed my best friend yesterday. She’s definitely gay, but I’m still not sure about me. Which is just to say I’m also not sure about other things.”

“That’s okay.”

“So… I think you get to take some time to figure out whatever words you want to use for yourself.”

He nodded again, looking a little more settled. “Yeah. Okay.”

“So you told _me_ how you felt about Katie,” she said. “And you told _her_. Who’s next?”

He only took a moment to think about it. “The rest of us,” he said. “I’m gonna tell the group. Once I run it by Katie, I mean.No lying, no hiding, right? Everybody gets to know.”

She ignored his sweaty tank top and gave him a signature Puckerman hug. It felt good when he gave her one right back. _At least we can be proud of one thing we do well,_ she thought. _Puckermans give kick-ass hugs._

“What about you?” he asked. “What are you going to do about your brother?”

“Well.” She looked up at him, steeling her resolve. “I kind of already have a plan. You think you can you keep one more secret?”

* * *

Kurt didn’t hear a knock, but he looked up when he heard Finn’s voice coming through their shared bathroom. _“Dear Griffin… it’s so straight forward I could cry. We need to meet on middle ground.”_

He sat up, smiling. “If the bathroom is where we need to start, so be it, but I’d rather have you in my bed.”

Finn’s return smile in the doorway was sheepish. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you yesterday, then.”

He laughed, beckoning Finn into the room. “You know you don’t have to apologize.”

Finn waited until Kurt put his books and notes aside to crawl onto his bed and lie down beside him. They both sighed as Finn wrapped him in his arms.

“Just because I know you’ll forgive me doesn’t mean I shouldn’t apologize,” he murmured. “Sarah and I were listening to you and Rachel singing together. You sounded amazing.”

“Thank you.” Kurt was obviously pleased, although it was hard to tell if that was about the compliment or about the way Finn was holding him. “I wasn’t sure how you would feel about me and Rachel doing a duet after the conversation we had.”

“I’m not at all jealous of you and Rachel,” Finn assured him. Kurt began to laugh.

“Trust me, I’m not going to start dating her, too.”

“I didn’t think you were,” said Finn. “But I really like the idea of the two of you being friends.”

Kurt snuggled closer. “You just want one big happy family, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I do. We sure have a big enough house for it. Space enough for everyone we’ve got, plus anybody else who might need a place to be. Yeah, all right, I love not having to say, _no, I’m sorry, I’m already taken,_ but it’s more than that. It’s…” He paused, trying to formulate words. Kurt supplied some for him.

“It’s that you want everyone to feel welcome. You want everyone to get what they want.”

“I want everyone to get what they _need,”_ he corrected. “It’s sometimes different. Like with me and Carl.”

They were silent together for a long moment, until Finn sighed, and Kurt hugged him closer.

“Do you know how much I absolutely love you?” Kurt said.

“Yeah.” Finn kissed his cheek. “It makes all the hard things so much easier.”


	28. Four Years Old: 1997

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back to posting this story once a week, after a hiatus to work on other things. It's taking me so much longer than I expected, but I'm determined to get it done. There's something particularly sad about one story taking two NaNoWriMos to write. 
> 
> Some of these vignettes about Noah's early life have been sitting around for over five years now, but this one I wrote a couple months ago. Noah's tendency toward prophetic dreams is apparently a family trait.

_Ruth set the bowl of cake batter down on the counter hard enough to make her mother jump, which was no small feat, considering what little hearing her mother had left. She turned and sniffed petulantly._

_“He didn’t even have the decency to pretend,” Ruth spat. She put the bowl in the crook of her arm and violently scraped the batter into the cake pan. “Just left the message from her on the machine where I could hear it.”_

_“I always told you that boy was up to no good,” her mother said._

_That wasn’t true. Ruth’s mother had been relieved when Ruth had decided to marry Aaron. Settling down had never really been part of her plan, but it hadn’t felt all that settled to be with Aaron from the beginning. Now, she could have argued with her mother about the I-told-you-so comment, but considering she was right, Ruth didn’t have the energy for it._

_Her mother sniffed again. “Well, if he’s gonna give some harlot waitress in Dayton a baby, he’d better give you another one too. He still owes you a girl.”_

_The last thing Ruth wanted was to be pregnant again, but she wasn’t about to say that to her mother, who’d struggled to hang on to Ruth long enough to bring her to term. She set the cake pan on top of the stove, staring without seeing at the temperature gauge._

_“I thought about calling her back, you know? Just to say,_ **_Aaron’s wife sends her regards,_ ** _or something. But it sounds like she’s already angry enough at him.”_

_“Well, I hope you make him beg a good long time before you let him in the house again,” her mother advised. She stood, wincing from the arthritis, and made her slow, ponderous way to the liquor cabinet above the breadbox._

_“I’m of a mind to change the locks on the door,” said Ruth. It was nothing but a bluff, and her mother knew it. They didn’t have money to pay their utility bill, much less to hire a locksmith for a reason as foolish as that. Aaron was only here part of the time anyway. Most nights, Ruth was the one out looking for him on the street, after the bars closed._

_“I praise God every day for your two boys, Ruthie.” Her mother unscrewed the cap on the bottle of Four Roses and carefully poured two shots, sliding one across the counter toward Ruth. She looked hard at her daughter. “You promise me, now, they’re gonna give me some great-grandchildren someday. Lord knows…”_

_She waved off the rest of the sentence, but it was a familiar refrain._ **_Lord knows your brother Samuel isn’t giving me grandchildren._ ** _Ruth didn’t blame Samuel for being gay, but her mother certainly did. Even now, as Samuel’s partner was in the process of dying of Kaposi’s Sarcoma, no one in the family spoke of him with any kind of awareness that he was worth remembering._

_Ruth sighed. “I promise, Ma.” She raised the shot of bourbon like a toast, and sipped it, grimacing._

_“Noah, he’s going to pass on the bloodline. I can see it.”_

_There was no arguing with her mother when she got like that, surrounded with mystical certainty. Whatever her mother did or not see in her dreams, it was impossible to know. Ruth wasn’t one to put faith in things that made no sense. She said the blessing on Fridays and honored the high holidays, but other than that, she figured it was up to her to make her own good fortune in the world._

_She stared glumly at the glass in her hand, and downed the rest before picking up Noah’s fourth birthday cake and sliding it into the oven._ **_Not that I’ve had much luck with that._ **


	29. Puck at Adventure Camp, Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, [Hunter was on Glee in season 4](http://data.whicdn.com/images/62802069/large.jpg). If you blinked, you probably missed him. Nolan Gerard Funk [grew up very pretty](http://data.whicdn.com/images/65200923/large.png), but at this point in Glee history, when he was a sophomore in high school, he probably looked [more like this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ba/69/63/ba6963b51eca36d19ab25d9062d61a71.jpg).
> 
> Warnings for complicated guilt and references to the consequences of aversion therapy. Keep in mind all of this is made up. I’m not a therapist, and even if I were, this is supposed to be bad therapy.  -amy

Puck was relieved when Sunday morning turned out to be another active one. Most of the boys seemed willing to sit and talk to one another all day, but Puck needed a certain amount of movement or else he felt like he would go crazy. And running around and tossing a ball back and forth counteracted some of the desperate guilt he already felt about being there in the first place.

But at lunch, sitting across from Hunter, they mostly stared over each other’s shoulders, taking quick glances up every few seconds. Eventually, Puck cleared his throat.

“I, uh. I got up early and went back to bed.”

Hunter nodded, his face neutral. “Figured.”

“You know I don’t think we did anything wrong?”

He shrugged and stared at his plate. “You can’t judge me. God’s the judge of the character of a man. I’m going to have to make it right with him.”

“Well…” Puck cast around for something, anything. “We’ve still got a few hours left. You want to go for a walk up to the ridge?”

That got him a smile and a nod. “I’ll tell Cy we’ll be back before the closing circle. You won’t want to miss this one.”

The sky was ridiculously clear. Puck wished he had his phone so he could take some pictures. _Kurt would love this,_ he thought, and then his heart stuttered a bit as he realized Kurt might not be so keen on looking at anything he had to show him anymore. He’d promised — he’d promised _Kurt_ — he wouldn’t leave again, and he did.

 _Maybe Burt won’t want me in the house anymore, either,_ he thought unhappily. _Maybe I should plan to move in with my dad._

Hunter was hiking up the trail just ahead of him, taking big strides. He didn’t even seem winded.

“You’re in pretty good shape for a singer,” said Puck.

“That’s what military academy does to a body,” Hunter called back. “We have hills like this in Colorado Springs, too.”

“You sure you shouldn’t be calling this a mountain?”

Hunter laughed. “Trust me, it doesn’t count as one.” He waited a few seconds for Puck to catch up. “What I can do doesn’t count for much, either. At my school, it’s all about how you look. I’m still the skinny sophomore.”

“I think you look good.”

Puck watched Hunter turn away quickly and stare straight ahead along the trail. He didn’t bother to clarify. Anything else he could have said would just have done more damage.

“I wish it didn’t matter,” Hunter said.

“You can be a badass at any size.”

“True,” said Hunter, brightening. “Dr. Horrible is skinny too, and he’s the most badass villain.”

“Dr. who?”

“Not Doctor Who. Dr. Horrible.”

Now Hunter was grinning again, and even if Puck didn’t know why, he grinned back, because it was better than seeing that blank, grim expression on his face.

“My brother’s skinny,” said Puck, “but he’s a total badass. At least he always was to everybody except our dad.”

Hunter paused, uncapping his water bottle. “Your dad’s the one who brought you here.”

Puck nodded while Hunter drank.

“He’s a badass too?” asked Hunter.

The answer stuck in Puck’s throat, but Hunter just waited patiently until he was able to respond.

“He was a jerk. When we were growing up. I mean, he did stuff to my brother, and me, and our Ma. Not my sister, though… I’m pretty sure, anyway.”

Hunter didn’t give him the usual pitying expression, which was a surprise, and he didn’t ask any questions, either. He just nodded, like he understood. It was a relief not to have to explain or justify things for a change.

“Let’s get to the top,” said Hunter, grabbing his arm and tugging him along. “Cy won’t let us do the last activity if we’re not back on time.”

The view from the summit was even more beautiful than it had been yesterday, with the sky so clear and the sun so bright. They just stood along the edge of the ridge and soaked it in.

“This is my favorite place,” said Hunter. “I’ve been up here more times than I can count. Nobody ever wanted to come up here with me, though.”

“Stupid them,” said Puck.

Hunter shrugged. “I don’t think I ever wanted anybody to.”

It was an obvious cue to start making out, but Hunter didn’t make a move toward him, and Puck wasn’t about to do it for him. Instead he took a couple steps toward the edge of the path, looking down into the ravine with trepidation.

“There’s so many things I have that I don’t think I deserve,” said Puck. “Some of them are way better than anybody should be able to expect, but I’ve got a bunch of people telling me I can have them anyway? And then there are… well, other people, who’ve been telling me I shouldn’t have them. I’m not sure who to listen to.”

“Yeah, you are,” said Hunter. “You’re sure.”

Puck blinked his eyes against the wind, letting the tears be carried away. “Maybe. But I can’t. I can’t let go of them.”

“Do you want to let go?”

He nodded, closing his eyes. “It’s the scariest thing, but… I think it would be best. The best thing, for everybody.”

“Cy can help,” Hunter said softly. He took a step toward him, then another. “There’s things he can do. It won’t be fun.”

“I can handle pain.”

“Here’s the thing, though: if you try it, it’s going to work. You’re going to have to be ready for that.”

Hunter was beside him now. He put his hands on Puck’s arms, stretching them out, like he was a kite about to be released. Puck kept his eyes closed, leaning into the wind.

“I can handle surrender,” Puck said. “I just need somebody to… you know, give me a push.”

He felt Hunter’s hips touch his own from behind, and he shivered.

“You want me to give you a push?” whispered Hunter.

“Yeah,” Puck whispered back, and squeezed his eyes tighter. He didn’t brace himself for the fall; he just let himself go. “Please.”

* * *

 

They got back to the campground in plenty of time for the closing activity, but Hunter didn’t stop in the main room. He led Puck past the assembled boys and through the corridor until they reached the administrative offices.

They stood waiting in front of Cy’s office long enough for Puck to start to wonder if he should back it up and think this through again. When Cy opened his door, still talking quietly on the phone, and beckoned them in, he considered bolting.

Then Cy hung up the receiver, and smiled at Puck, gesturing to the chair. Puck sat, trying not to look at Hunter.

“You’re missing the closing circle, boys,” Cy said. “What’s on your mind?”

“Noah told me he’s ready to take the next step,” said Hunter.

Cy nodded slowly, regarding Puck across his desk. “And what do you think the _next step_ is?”

“To let go of my boyfriend,” said Puck. “To let him go, and move on.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, Noah, what was it that prompted this decision?”

Puck chewed on his lip, and then stopped as he imagined Lady Tess giving him a stern look. “It’s my kid. Beth. There’s a lot of things I’ve messed up in my life, and… I want to be a good papa for her. I want to make the right choices, so she doesn’t —“

He paused. He wasn’t sure how to say _doesn’t have to be as screwed up as I am._ But Cy was already smiling.

“That’s very brave of you.”

Puck nodded, straightening his shoulders. “I told Hunter, I’m ready.”

“All right.” He reached across the desk and held out his hand. Puck shook it. “There will be some paperwork your father will need to sign when he arrives to pick you up. After the other boys head for home, I’ll show you to your new quarters.”

Cy shook Hunter’s hand, too. The way they were all acting, Puck felt a little like he was joining a secret society.

He nudged Hunter as they returned to the hallway. “Do you get, like, bonus points for each dude who gives it up to you or something?”

“What, like a sticker chart?” asked Hunter, smirking.

Puck laughed. Then he stopped walking and touched Hunter’s arm.

“Seriously. I don’t know what you’re getting out of this, but you’ve been really cool to me. Thanks.”

Hunter’s smile fell away, and he looked at the floor. “If I’m trying to save other guys’ souls, well… I’m being kind of a hypocrite, aren’t I? Considering — what happened last night.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, I’d rather have a hypocrite friend than nobody. You’ll get no judgment here.”

That seemed to cheer Hunter up a little bit. The rest of the boys coming out of the closing circle, on the other hand, appeared to be even more scared and depressed than they had been when they’d arrived. Trevor and Daniel were crying and hugging one another.

“It’s hard to leave and go back to the regular world,” Hunter said to Puck. “Most of them are just going to fall into old habits when they go home. I’ve seen lots of guys come back to Adventure Camp twice, three times. It’s not easy to change.” He nodded at him. “That’s why you’re able to take the next step. Because you admitted you couldn’t do it alone.”

Puck still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but he nodded too. They sat down along the wall in the waiting area, watching as the other boys’ parents arrived to pick them up.

Daniel shyly approached Puck, dragging his suitcase behind him.

“Here,” he said, thrusting a piece of paper at him. “It’s my email address. If you want to stay in touch.” Then he hurried away before Puck could say anything. Puck folded it up and tucked it in his pocket.

“Don’t look at me,” said Puck at Hunter’s expression. “I didn’t suggest it. And if he’s hoping for a hookup, Ohio to Oregon is a hell of a commute.”

His dad came late, as usual, but he looked relieved to see Puck as he hugged him.

“How was it?” he asked.

“The mountains are awesome,” Puck said. “I did a lot of thinking. Remember how you said there’s, like, a level two? I think I unlocked that achievement.”

“Mr. Lucis and I spoke already,” his dad nodded, glancing over at Cy, who was talking to other parents. “He told me on the phone. You’re sure?”

Puck didn’t know what _sure_ felt like, but he nodded. “Sorry to make you, I don’t know, wait around for me?”

“Noah, no. It’s fine. It’s going to help you.” His dad definitely looked happy. “This is what God wants for you.”

He tried to smile back. “Well, I guess I’d better do it, then.”

It wasn’t until that night, lying on his new cot in his silent, solitary room, that he let himself think about Blaine and cry. Of all the things he wished he’d done differently, not saying goodbye to Blaine was number one.

* * *

 

_Well I know it wasn't you who held me down  
_ _Heaven knows it wasn't you who set me free  
_ _So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains  
_ _And we never even know we have the key  
_ _But me, I'm already gone_

[ _-The Eagles, “Already Gone”_ ](http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoGweOFqapU)


	30. Rocky Horror Glee Show, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody is confused why Will might choose to do Rocky Horror with the Glee club, you might consider (re)reading [chapter 5 of Just That Side of True](http://archiveofourown.org/works/249076/chapters/389678). 
> 
> Also, if you didn’t get a chance to watch [Adam in the new RHPS reboot](https://youtu.be/K4OswtsDzqc), you really must see it.   It’s made even funnier if you notice that Brad is played by [a guy who looks a hell of a lot like Darren Criss](http://static4.worldofwonder.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/367B115500000578-3702273-image-a-131_1469139197617.jpg).
> 
> I have a lot of affection for Rocky Horror, having seen it about seventy times in the theater over the past twenty-eight years, and playing both Magenta and Janet in shadow casts. I typed one of the very first online audience participation scripts and put it on Usenet in 1993. 
> 
> Quoting in this chapter from 2x05 RHGS. Some of the speakers of lines have been switched, but most of 2x05 is as written, with plenty of additional scenes. Warnings in this part for m/m sex and handballing, D/s dynamics and schmoop.

 

Emma was still laughing as she and Carl ran out of the revival theater’s double door exit onto the street. She brushed rice out of her hair and beamed at Carl, gripping tight to his hand.

“That,” she said, shaking it firmly, “was _amazing.”_

“Dayton has a really good shadow cast,” Carl agreed. His eyes danced as he leaned over to kiss her. “Do you need to change your shoes?”

Emma considered the question, stepping experimentally in her heels to see how they felt on the pavement. “A little sticky, but I think I can handle it. Oh, my god, that theater was _packed._ I haven’t been to a movie like that in — well, maybe ever!”

“Rocky Horror is in a category all its own.” He offered his arm, and she linked her hand through it, smiling out into the night.

“And you weren’t kidding when you said you knew all the lines. And then some! I’m reasonably certain most of those weren’t in the script.”

“It seems to be a regional thing. The audience in Cleveland had their own set of audience participation lines, and Columbus has different ones.” He glanced over at her. “What did you think about the costumes?”

“Very adventurous.” She made sure it came out sounding like a good thing, because it was. _Everything’s a good thing around Carl,_ she thought, feeling giddy.

“Do you think you might want to dress up like that some time?”

She stumbled a little on the pavement, but he caught her before she could fall. “I — I don’t know. I’m sure I couldn’t pull off most of those costumes.”

“You’d be an adorable Janet,” he offered. “Although I bet you’d have more fun as Trixie or Columbia.”

Emma tried to keep breathing, just as she had been doing all night, and ended up laughing. “I don’t know,” she said again. “But I wouldn’t rule it out. What about you?”

“I play a very convincing Frank, as a matter of fact.”

Now she did stop, staring at him. The heels raised her up far enough to put her face even with his. “You do not!”

“I do,” he said calmly. “I can show you the whole ensemble when we get home. I have a wig and heels and stockings and false eyelashes and everything.” He leaned in closer, smiling, and whispered, “A mental mind-fuck can be nice.”

She let out a little squeak, but managed to maintain her footing. “I’m… not sure how I feel about that. But of course it’s up to you.”

“Indeed it is.” He didn’t seem upset. “Would you like to stop for an ice cream before we head home? Or would you prefer to see what I have waiting for you there?”

“The — the second one, sir.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Once she was securely buckled into the passenger seat of the Corvette, he turned to her again, taking both her hands and looking solemnly into her eyes.

“You could wear your collar to the show, the next time,” he said. “No one would think twice about it. Most people would assume it was part of your costume, and the rest would understand the truth, and approve.”

She bowed her head, feeling the thrill of possibility. “I did notice a few in the audience, and I — I wondered. If they were real, or —“

“A few were,” he said, nodding. “No one I knew personally. We could go to the Columbus special showing at Halloween in a few weeks. I doubt anyone from McKinley would be there.”

“That would make me feel more comfortable, sir.” She paused before adding, as respectfully as she could, “Did you ever take Finn to see it?”

She watched him grow still, the way he usually did when she brought up that relationship. It was often hard to know how Carl felt about most things, because he was so good at managing his own reactions, but he had so many tells about Finn, there was usually no question about how he felt. It was a wonder he’d been able to get through his visit to Glee club without someone calling him on it.

“No,” he said.

There was an awkward pause, and just as he opened his mouth and drew a breath to fill it, she raced to speak first. “I think you should. Take him, I mean.”

He was clearly startled, but recovered quickly, shaking his head. “Emms, I told you, he’s not —“

“I know. He would do this, though. Because this would be like it was at Adam’s concert, right? A little escape from reality. I saw how it was tonight in that theater. All those kids, I’m sure they’re dealing with school and grades and peer pressure and… and dirty fruit, but tonight, none of that mattered.” She smiled, and squeezed his hand. “Just ask him. I’m not saying I don’t want to go with you again. I’m saying… he might need it more than I do.”

Carl broke into a sweet little smile. He almost looked embarrassed. “You’re taking good care of me, Emms.”

“Well, isn’t that what a — a wife is supposed to do?” She looked down at her lap and laughed. “I mean, if I were that.”

“Many of them do that,” Carl agreed. He let her hands go and started the car. “But I think _supposed to_ applies better to slaves. I would be pleased to accept it as a required behavior from my slave. Or a gift, from my wife. If you were that.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Apparently.” He sounded amused, but his face was solemn.

Because they prided themselves on honesty, she added, “Will told me to wait. Not to say yes just yet.”

Carl nodded. “We talked about you the other day, when he came in to have his teeth checked. I think he has your best interests at heart, Emms, but I’m not convinced he really understands what you need, or how to give it to you.” He watched her face. “It’s possible he never will.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath in, then out. “Can we go home and… do the things you were planning, before I lose my good mood entirely?”

He chuckled, patting her leg. “Oh, don’t worry, baby. I’m sure I can resurrect that mood.”

* * *

Carl as Frank: <http://www.ew.com/sites/default/files/styles/tout_image_612x380/public/i/2010/10/20/John-Stamos-Rocky-Horror_300.jpg>

And, for good measure, looking very much like Riff: <http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/02/03/article-0-1B28AB1100000578-691_634x630.jpg>

* * *

Sarah and Carole came through the garage door together, carrying a bag of groceries. Kurt made eye contact with Carole over Sarah’s head as she went straight for the kitchen without saying anything to him. Carole gave him one short head shake. _No news,_ it said.

“Sarah had a bad day at school?” Kurt asked in a low voice.

Carole sat down across from Kurt at the table, sighing as she nudged her shoes off with her toes. “I have to say, most days have been bad days lately. I don’t even know if she’s getting her homework done.”

“Knowing Sarah, she’s got it covered, no matter how crummy she’s feeling.” Kurt slid two papers across the table at her. “Here. Permission slips. The top one is Finn’s.”

“Permission slip? For what?” She scanned the paper, laughing in surprise. “Mr. Schuester is directing _The Rocky Horror Show?_ Isn’t that a little risqué for high school?”

“That’s what I said. He assured us he will cut the most questionable parts, but I have serious doubts. To be honest, I’m disgusted by the whole process. I’ve been asking to do a school musical for ever, and he pulls _this_ out, no auditions or anything? We have less than two weeks to rehearse and perform the whole thing.” He sighed. “That’s not a real musical. And the performance is on Saturday the 30th, so I can’t go to Columbus that weekend.”

If Carole made the connection between _Columbus_ and _Blaine_ , she didn’t say anything about it. “Well, I think it’s great,” she said, pulling a pen out of her purse. “Finn will be a perfect Brad, and you’ll have a ball doing Riff Raff. That’s an excellent part for a voice actor like you.” She scrawled her name at the bottom of both pages. Then she paused, aghast, and stared at them. “Oh — Kurt, I’m sorry, I just — I didn’t even think.”

“What?”

“I signed your permission slip!”

He gave her a faint smile. “You think anybody’s going to question your authority?”

“It’s not that, Kurt,” she said, with a little shake of her head. “It’s that I should have asked. I’m not your parent.”

“You should have asked before you and my dad fell in love? Really? Didn’t Finn and I kind of throw you into this mess together?”

She laughed, shrugging. “Well, I know you weren’t exactly crazy about the idea of me at the beginning.”

“That was at the beginning.” He stood up and walked over to stand beside her, taking her hand.She just looked up at him helplessly. “Carole, it’s been almost a whole year. You and my dad are clearly happy. I mean, we bought a _house_ together, all of us. Nobody will replace my mom, but you’ve never tried to do that.”

“I don’t want to try,” she said emphatically. “Not for you, or your dad, even if we do get married.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If? I thought that was practically a done deal.”

She shrugged, looking lost. “Well… things have been so chaotic this year. Your dad’s heart attack, and this thing with Puck…”

“Carole,” he said quietly. “None of those things change the way you feel about each other. Or what you want. No matter what happens next, I think you should have what you want right now.”

Carole bit her lip. A tear spilled over and made its way down her cheek, and she brushed it away impatiently. “That’s really sweet, Kurt. I wish it were that simple.” She put the permission slip in his hand and smiled. “If Mr. Schuester questions my signature—”

Kurt leaned over and kissed her wet cheek. “He won’t.”

* * *

Finn leaned forward in the choir room chair and flipped to the next page of the script. “So, then after the Time Warp, Riff Raff, aka Kurt, takes me and Rachel to Frankenfurter’s lab.”

“I have no idea what’s going on in this script,” said Sam, wrinkling his nose, “and it’s not in a cool _Inception_ kind of way.”

Finn had to agree, but he gave Sam an encouraging smile. “Just try, okay? Okay, so then they take off our wet clothes and we do the rest of the scene in our underwear.”

Mike blinked. “Wait, so you’re in your tighty-whities?”

“Yeah.” Finn shrugged. “So?”

“You don’t care about being on stage in front of the whole school in your tighty-whities?” Mike’s face was turning a dark rose color. “They’re gonna see your whole…” He gestured to his own crotch. “Your whole _business.”_

Finn glanced uneasily at Sam. “Uh… Mike, you do realize _you’re_ gonna have to dress up in a lot more revealing stuff than that?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same. I’ll be in makeup and a costume. It’ll be _pretend._ You’re going to have to just… be yourself, in front of everybody. _Naked.”_ Mike shivered. “I don’t think I could do that.”

“Isn’t all of this pretend?” Finn asked, but Mike wasn’t really listening. Finn watched him fold into himself, holding his own arms like he was trying to keep himself together, and felt a pang of sympathy.

“C’mon, it’ll be just like going to the pool,” Sam said.

“I wear a swim-shirt at the pool,” hissed Mike. “Look, I know I’m an athlete and it’s not manly or anything, but I’m… kind of insecure about how I look.”

Finn stared at Mike. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Mike squirmed. “What?”

“C’mon, think about Tina,” said Sam. “She doesn’t look like Brittany or Santana, but you still think she’s hot, right?”

“Well, yeah, of course.”

“So it’s like that. You don’t have to have a typical body to be awesome.”

“Dude.” Finn couldn’t help but laugh, because when it came to amazing bodies, Sam was pretty cut, but _Mike_ … He turned in his seat to face him directly, making sure Mike was looking at him. “Mike, you’re just going to have to trust me that you’re the hottest guy in school. Okay?”

“O-okay,” Mike said softly, eyes wide. He looked a little shellshocked, but he didn’t look away from Finn.

“All right.” Finn nodded and returned to the script. “So, then after that, you’re — I mean Frankenfurter is going to come down the elevator and when he comes down, we are scared…”

They walked through the rest of the first act, laughing at the dialogue and the lyrics in the songs, but Mike seemed to be a little less worried than he had been. He even hammed up some of the parts where he and “Rocky” were flirting, making Sam crack up.

“Okay, then… it looks like Frank comes into Janet’s room disguised as Brad?” Finn paused to reread the scene, but Mike was already skimming ahead.

“Oh, jeez.” Mike coughed. “I have to seduce Janet? I thought Mr. Schue cut out the risqué parts.”

“Well, I guess maybe this is important to the plot, or something? I mean, he didn’t take out the part where he and Rocky get married, either, so…”

“Finn,” he whispered, sounding strangled. His face was so red, Finn had to wonder if he was going to pass out, like Janet in the party scene. “I — I have to seduce _you,_ too.”

“Oh.” Finn read through the scene. “Uh, yeah, it looks like it’s the same scene again, only now you’re disguised as Janet.”

“This is totally fucked up,” said Sam, but he was grinning.

Mike hid behind his script, moaning, “I _really_ don’t think I can do this, guys.”

“Hey, hey, no. Mike. Come on.” Finn reached up and pulled Mike’s hand down from his face, trying to capture his gaze again. “It’s _theater,_ man. Don’t think of it like it’s real. You’re acting. This isn’t about you and me, or any of us. We just get to be as convincing as we can, and make everybody think it’s real. What’s that quote? All the world’s a stage, and we’re just players?”

“That —“ Mike swallowed, his Adam’s apple traveling up and down his neck. “That implies we’re all acting all the time.”

“Well…” Finn wasn’t sure what to say to that. An image of Blaine appeared in his head, smiling his perfect-Blaine smile, and he felt a jolt of pain. He glanced away, trying to maintain his composure.

“We kind of are, though,” said Sam. “Right? I don’t mean pretending to be somebody else, but kind of… the opposite of acting. We’re keeping some stuff hidden. Some of it we let everybody see, and some of it is just for ourselves, and some… we pick the people who see the rest.”

Now Mike was nodding. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’m just… what happens if I let the wrong people see that stuff? What if they see it, and suddenly they think I’m a bad person?”

“Their loss, man,” said Finn. “I think the people who matter wouldn’t think that.”

“They might,” he said quietly. “If they saw it, they might.”

Mike wasn’t the only one looking worried after their read-through. Sam walked a step behind Finn all the way to his locker while he put away his script. He looked like he was wrestling with something, but Finn wasn’t sure he knew Sam well enough to ask him what it was. Eventually, though, he decided it was worth the risk.

“Do you have somebody who sees you for who you are?” asked Finn.

Sam looked up at him in surprise. “Well,yeah. I talked to Kurt about it?”

“Kurt keeps people’s secrets,” he said. “And so do I.”

Sam paused, sizing him up. Then he nodded. “He, uh. He told me you’re a — that you manage people. Somebody. Like, you’re a Coach.”

“A coach. I guess you could say that.” Finn grinned. Then he flicked his eyes up to Sam, feeling the shock of realization. “ _Oh._ The Coach is your — well, we would say _Top?”_

“A Top? Isn’t that a kind of gay sex thing? Like, one person’s on the bottom and the other one is —“ Sam made a subtle finger gesture, and Finn suppressed a grin.

“That’s different from this kind of Top.”

“But Kurt said it’s kind of sexy for him, right? Him and Puck, they’re boyfriends, too.”

Finn almost dropped his backpack. “Kurt _told_ you he was Puck’s Top?”

“Yeah. I kind of ran into him while he was freaking out in the courtyard, and we talked about him and Puck. It was cool.” Sam shrugged, looking uncertain. “And he said that sometimes he’s got a Coach — I mean, a Top, too.”

Sam was watching him so closely, Finn had to be careful not to let his face betray what he was feeling. Kurt wouldn’t have told Sam about _him_. He was sure of it. “That’s right. Sometimes he’s in charge and sometimes somebody else is. And it’s part of their relationships.”

“Wow.” Sam let out a big sigh, and Finn could see the desire, so plain in his eyes.

“They don’t always work out,” he said mildly. “Relationships like that.”

But Sam was shaking his head. “Nothing ever works out all the time. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go for it when you know you want it.”

Finn tilted his head. “You know that, huh? That you want that?”

“Yeah. I always did. Even before I knew I could have it. I daydreamed about it. Not sexy dreams, just… I really wanted somebody keeping me in check, like that. My dad says I’m a natural follower.”

He smiled. “How was it being quarterback, then?”

“Well, it was cool the Coach trusted me, but…” Sam shrugged. “I’d rather just run her plays.”

“I guess I can understand that,” said Finn. “It’s good to let somebody else drive, sometimes.”

“So, you do that too?” Sam wasn’t teasing. Finn could tell he was asking in earnest.

“I used to,” he said slowly. “It’s been a while. I kind of stopped asking for it.”

“Dude.” Sam dropped his voice to nothing, his eyes round and incredulous. “ _Why?”_

Finn tried to answer, but the more he attempted to formulate a sentence, the harder it was to talk. Finally he just gave up, shaking his head.

“I don’t even know anymore,” he admitted.

Sam reached over and clapped him on the shoulder, his face suffused with sympathy. “If I showed my Coach that kind of uncertainty right there, it would earn _me_ a serious hiding.”

It sounded so appealing that Finn just closed his eyes and let himself imagine it for a long moment. He let out a shaky breath. “I get that.”

He still had those images fresh in his mind as he drove home after football practice. When his phone rang, and it was _Carl,_ of all people, Finn had to pull his car over to the curb and idle while he answered.

“Hi,” he said, feeling stupidly awkward. He took a couple of calming breaths, refocusing his attention away from memories and possibilities and plug #22, which was currently inside him.

 _“Hi, Finn,”_ Carl said. _“Is this a bad time? I had a question for you.”_

He didn’t sound like Dr. Howell, the dentist, but he also didn’t sound like Finn’s Top, either. He was just talking to him like… like _Carl_. Which all by itself was weird. Finn maintained his breathing.

“No, it’s a good time. I’m on my way home. What was your question?”

_“I was thinking. Well, this coming weekend in Columbus, there’s a special showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. They don’t show it in the theater very often anymore, but it’s almost Halloween, so they’re doing it on Friday night.”_

“Oh.” Finn licked his lips. “Did — you somehow hear we were doing Rocky Horror in Glee? The play. I’m playing Brad, and Rachel’s Janet.”

Carl gave a little cough that could have been a laugh. “ _No… no, I didn’t hear about that. Is Will — Mr. Schuester okay with that?”_

“Yeah, he’s directing. I guess he thinks it’ll be okay. He said he took out the worst parts. I don’t know, though, I read the script and it was still pretty wild.”

 _“Yes. Wild is a good word for it.”_ Carl had regained some of his composure. Finn could hear him smiling, and he smiled back automatically. _“Well, that’s all the more reason for you to see the film. It’s an experience. I’d like it if we saw it together.”_

“Yeah,” Finn said, his voice coming out throaty. He cleared it, trying again. “Yeah, definitely. Sounds fun and stuff. Does, uh… does that mean you’re going to drive back down for the open mic on Saturday, too?”

_“Java the Hut is closed this weekend. Irene is getting ready for her grand opening at the Lima Bean.”_

Finn was more relieved than disappointed to hear that. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere Blaine was, anyway. “Kurt said he wanted to go down there with you soon. Maybe after Halloween is over?”

_“I’m sure we can arrange that. So should I plan to pick you up after the football game on Friday?”_

“Yeah, that’s good. I know people, like, dress up, but we don’t have our costumes yet. You think I could just wear my regular clothes?”

_“That’s perfectly fine. I’ll come to your house after the game.”_

Finn put the car into gear. “You want me to call you and let you know when the game’s over?”

There was a pause.

 _“Finn,”_ Carl said gently. “ _I come to every football game.”_

Finn pressed down on the brake and sat there for a minute in the middle of the empty neighborhood street. Eventually he reminded himself to close his mouth.

“You… don’t really have to do that,” he whispered.

_“Humor me. There’s not a lot to do in Lima, after all. And I’m dating the school counselor.”_

Of course he was. Of course. It wasn’t about — he wasn’t there because —

Finn closed his eyes tight, but he couldn’t escape the sudden vivid images inside his head, the ones in which Carl was kneeling in front of him in the shower, or the ones in which Carl was cradling him in his arms in his bed, or especially not the ones in which Carl was barking orders at him from across the room while his whip made _crack_ after _crack_ against his skin —

He gasped, swallowing the noise that threatened to escape. _Would you spank me before the game_ was not a question he felt like he could ask anymore, even if it had been on the tip of his tongue for their whole conversation.

_“Finn?”_

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Okay. It’s fine. I’ll see you Friday.”

He navigated home, making an extra effort to stop at every sign and look both ways. His brain felt swathed in cotton, numbing his judgment, to the point that he couldn’t tell what was really happening and what was in his imagination. All he could hear was Carl’s voice in his ears, telling him what to do. He could feel Carl’s hand on his knee when he shifted, the smell of Carl’s cologne each time he inhaled.

By the time he pulled into the garage, Finn had given up trying not to be turned on. He came in through the front door and went right up to Kurt, who was studying in the library. Kurt barely had time to look up from his homework and set down his pen before Finn had leaned over and was kissing him, hard and fervent.

“Come upstairs with me,” he begged.

Kurt pushed his chair back, stumbling out from behind his dad’s desk. He took Finn’s offered hand and followed him up the staircase into his bedroom.

“Finn, what —?” Kurt asked. He was already unbuttoning his shirt, watching him with questioning eyes.

“I just need you. Need so much.” Finn groped hungrily for his skin, running his hands over Kurt’s ribs and into the sleeves of his shirt, tugging them off his wrists.

“You have me,” Kurt promised. “Would you just slow down a second? You can have anything you want from me. Believe me, I’m not trying to keep you from touching me or kissing me whenever you want.” He stood there, his hands on Finn’s arms, until Finn sighed and sat back on the bed. Kurt moved to stand between his legs, resting a gentle hand on his chest. “Tell me what’s going on?”

“Can’t it just be about sex?” Finn could hear the edge of a whine in his voice, but Kurt just smiled.

“If it was just about sex, I’d wonder who I was having sex with.” He kissed Finn again, letting the tension build, but this time it was Finn who stopped him.

“Carl,” he said. “He invited me to go to the Rocky Horror movie with him this weekend.”

Kurt’s eyes immediately softened. “Finn.”

“Yeah. Totally didn’t even know about Glee doing it. I guess it is almost Halloween.”

“You don’t have to go,” said Kurt, but then he stopped, watching Finn’s expression, and laughed. “Okay. I know that’s not the issue.”

“The issue is I don’t like feeling so — so _out of control_ around him. But what really sucks is, I can tell how out of control I already _am?_ And the thing I need most to be _in_ control is — something he can give me.”

“He’s not the only one who can,” Kurt said.

Finn shook his head, kissing Kurt’s cheek. “I know, baby. You’re awesome at that. You and Puck, you proved it.” He smiled sadly as Kurt’s eyes became shadowed at the mention of Puck’s name. “It’s just not how I want it to be with us.”

“Is it how you want it to be with Carl?” Kurt didn’t sound upset. The question was a reasonable one. Finn tried to think it through completely before answering.

“You know how when you’re in a canoe, you should sit down to keep it from tipping?” Finn asked. “When I’m on my own, without… him, I’m, like, standing up all the time. Every little challenge, every hard thing that happens, it affects me a million times more than when he’s got me sitting down. So that’s really hard, not to have him around to make me stable.” He closed his eyes. “But, then, he’s also like a—an _anchor._ One that’s keeping us in those tall water grasses, the ones with the fluffy things on the ends of them? And that’s a pretty lonely place to be.”

“You wish you could be out,” Kurt said.

“More than that.” He sighed with frustration. “I wish we could be _equals._ Like you and me. I don’t want things back the way they were before with Carl. But it’s not like I don’t want to _do_ all those things we used to do.”

Kurt rested his head on Finn’s chest. “You’re not equals, Finn. He’s older and more experienced. And, I hate to say it, but you’re dating his daughter.”

“I know. And I know it can’t really be the way I want, not for a long time. Maybe not ever. But, Kurt, he’s trying. This, what he did, the way he asked me…” Finn shrugged helplessly. “I could tell. He’s trying to make it more what I need. And, god, Kurt, I _need…”_

This time when Finn kissed him, Kurt didn’t ask him to stop. They barely paused to take their own clothes off, keeping their hands on one another constantly as they shed pants and socks. When Kurt’s hands cupped Finn’s ass and squeezed, he moaned.

“Did you want me inside you again?” Kurt asked, squeezing again. “My whole hand? Like we did before?”

Finn shuddered. “My mom’s going to be home soon. And that whole thing, it’s kind of a — a long process. I don’t think I want to do it if I know we might get interrupted.”

Kurt leaned his head in closer to Finn’s ear, digging in a little harder with his fingers, until Finn gasped. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“ _Yes,”_ he hissed. “Yes, I want that. Yes, I want you doing it to me.”

He stiffened a little, however, as Kurt’s hands slid beneath the waistband of his boxers and his fingers brushed against the plug inside him.

“That’s _almost_ like having my hand inside you,” Kurt whispered. He gave the plug a little push. “Isn’t it?”

“Oh… god.” He swallowed uneasily. “Kurt, I — I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Doesn’t it feel good?”

Finn moved a step back, grasping Kurt’s wrists and holding them. Even that small space between their bodies felt like too far away.

“It feels amazing. And it’s not supposed to. That, those plugs, that’s not… they weren’t meant for that.”

Kurt frowned at him. “But he’s not telling you to do that anymore. They can be anything you want them to be.”

“No,” Finn said, a little too loudly. Kurt’s eyes widened, and Finn sighed. “No. They can’t. I’m not going to let him down, just because I can’t deal with not getting everything I want.”

He watched Kurt search his face, trying to understand. “Is it because _he_ told you not to let them feel sexual?”

Finn shook his head. “It’s because I see _why_ he told me to do that. It’s discipline. Being in charge of _myself._ He’s helping me learn how to become someone who can do that.”

“Mastering your own impulses,” Kurt murmured.

He didn’t try to pull away from Finn’s grip on his wrists. Instead, he leaned in, across the space between them, and kissed him gently, slowly. It felt a little like torture, kissing like that, with only their lips touching. He could hear the noises they were each making as they were both getting worked up, felt Kurt’s body quivering, and his own hips bucking against the air. Each little flutter of sensation inside of him was magnified by the presence of the plug, but he refused to let it overtake him. Kurt smiled.

“That’s hot,” he said. “You, being in charge of _anything._ Including yourself.”

“Sometimes it’s really annoying,” Finn admitted. Kurt laughed.

“You expect a lot of yourself, Finn. That’s wonderful to witness, even when you’re being hard on yourself.” Kurt turned him around and faced him toward their shared bathroom, giving his ass a swat as he went. “I’ll be waiting for you in my bed. Don’t take too long, or you might miss the good part.”

Finn showered quickly, washing himself and, for good measure, inserted a quantity of thick lube, the kind Carl had recommended for activities like these. It still felt unpleasant, but he knew Carl was right, that it would protect his body against actual damage.

He was damp and much cleaner when he climbed into bed with Kurt. They wrapped up in each other, both of them letting out sighs of delicious relief.

“This is almost enough right here,” said Finn. “I already feel so much better.”

Kurt was taking his time, planting little kisses along Finn’s collarbone. “You know, I was thinking about what you said, about Carl helping steady your canoe.” He brushed a hand through Finn’s hair. “I remember watching you with Blaine this summer, and thinking what you were doing for him was doing that for you.”

Kurt’s closeness was making it a little hard to concentrate on his words. “Mmm. Doing what?”

“Taking care of Blaine.” Kurt cupped his face in both hands and kissed him, then looked into his eyes, unsmiling. “ _You_ need that, as much as you need what Carl can give you. It made you stronger, more solid.”

Finn took a long breath. “Yeah. Maybe it did. I’m not sure if I should spend time wishing for things I can’t have, though.”

“I’m not convinced it’s over.” Kurt set his face in a determined scowl. “This is not Blaine’s choice. His father can’t take him away from us, any more than Puck’s father can take _him_ away.”

Finn didn’t want to argue with Kurt, especially not when they were naked in bed together. “It’s up to you, baby. I totally wouldn’t stand in your way of doing anything you can to change Mr. Anderson’s mind. Maybe you can convince him you’re a good boyfriend for Blaine.”

Kurt sighed. “Well, right now _Blaine_ scarcely remembers who I am, so…”

“Hey.” Finn kissed him, making him look at him. “You’re awesome, okay? If anybody could catch Blaine’s eye and distract him from focusing on what his dad wants him to do, it’d be you.”

“Okay.” Kurt’s eyes were wide, the pupils dilating. Finn smiled, running an idle finger up and down his cock, relishing the moan Kurt gave him in return. “So — so what do you want, if I’m not going to…?”

“I want to suck you off.” His smile widened as Kurt moaned again, thrusting up into his hand. “And then, we’ll see.”

He already knew what _we’ll see_ meant, but he wanted to focus on Kurt first. Leaning over Kurt, watching him dissolve into bliss, Finn could feel himself growing stronger. Kurt’s satisfaction was primary — and it fed him.

 _He’s right,_ he thought, even as Kurt cried out as he came. _I was better, stronger, when I was handling Blaine. So… until Puck comes back, what am I going to do?_

He gathered Kurt up in his arms, holding him tightly while Kurt shuddered and let his tension go.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispered. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Kurt tucked himself close into Finn’s neck, and began to cry silently.

“I’m just so scared,” Kurt whispered back, “that I’m never going to see either of them again. Not like they were. Blaine _or_ Noah.”

“I know,” Finn said. He sighed, gathering him closer. “I’m scared of that too. All we can do is keep going.”

He felt Kurt’s hand squeeze in between them and make its way down Finn’s stomach to his cock, even as he blinked away tears. “So what happens now?”

“Maybe we should just get dressed…”

“Ohhh, no. No, you don’t get away that easily.” Kurt threw a leg on top of him and knelt on his legs, holding Finn down with both hands. “If you don’t figure out what you want quickly, I’m going to have to pick.”

“Yeah, well… I know I said _no_ before, but…” Finn’s eyes strayed to the drawer next to the bed, where he knew Kurt had a stash of rubber gloves. “I think I changed my mind.”

Kurt was already leaning over and gathering the things he needed, nodding emphatically. “You’re going to have to talk me through it. I’m still feeling a little unsure about how to tell if I’m doing it right.”

“Honestly, it’s hard to make mistakes when it’s your whole hand.” He spread his legs wide, making room for Kurt to kneel between them. “You don’t have to aim. Everything you do feels good.”

He didn’t bother to hold back his own climax. Kurt had three fingers inside him and Finn was straining to lean in to kiss him when he gasped, “Oh, god —“ He barely had time to reach down and wrap a hand around himself before he was coming all over his own stomach and chest. Kurt paused, but Finn shook his head grabbing Kurt’s wrist and hauling him in closer. “No — keep going.”

“It’s not too much?” Kurt asked uncertainly.

“Maybe a little, but it’s worth it.” He spread himself wider as Kurt worked his thumb inside, breathing through it. “You feel amazing.”

“You keep telling me that.” Kurt watched his hand disappear into Finn, and Finn’s reactions, with incredulous delight. “It just looks like it would _hurt._ ”

“Baby,” Finn said, laughing, “so what if it _hurts?_ It — feels — amazing.” He reached for Kurt’s forearm, giving it a firm tug with each word, and they both cried out.

“That hard?You really want it —“ Kurt gave it a halfhearted attempt, then steeled himself and thrust in harder. “Like that? My _fist?_ ”

Finn nodded, wrapping two light fingers around his cock, which was already swelling again. He tensed and set up a rapid pace, stroking fast. Kurt gave him another dozen sharp, focused thrusts, this time putting force behind it, and just like that, Finn was coming a second time.

“You think you could do it again?” Kurt said eagerly.

Finn flailed one hand out and placed it, trembling, on top of Kurt’s wrist where it entered his body, keeping him still.

“Maybe,” he croaked. “But not today.” He winced as Kurt slid out with a twisting motion. “I think I’m… just going to lie here for a few minutes.”

It was a uniquely intense sensation, the aftermath of that kind of stimulation. Finn watched Kurt through bleary eyes as he went into the bathroom to clean up. He breathed, touching and prodding himself gently to make sure there wasn’t any damage. _Carl would have taken care of you,_ he thought, and found himself crying about that, even though he hadn’t cried earlier about Blaine or Puck.

By the time Kurt returned, his tears had stopped, but he let Kurt crawl into bed beside him and hold him for a little while anyway.

“Mom really is going to be home any minute.”

“I know. The door’s closed. She won’t bother us, even if she does come home.” Kurt kissed his neck, then his cheek. “I’m so impressed by you.”

Finn had to laugh, shaking his head. “Because why, exactly? You think I’m cool because I like taking your whole hand up my butt? Which, seriously, is a sentence I _never_ thought I would say.”

Kurt was giggling as he swatted Finn’s hip. “Not for that. You get to like whatever you like, and you know I want to give it to you. Because you’re willing to do all these things you never thought you would want to do. You’re opening yourself up to new experiences. That’s not easy.” He hummed a few bars of “Whataya Want From Me,” then sang quietly, “ _Thanks for loving me / Cause you’re doing it perfectly.”_

Finn grabbed Kurt’s arms and hugged them tighter around himself, like Kurt was his blanket. Kurt sighed happily and rested his head on top of Finn’s.

“I hope you the two of you have fun at Rocky Horror.”

“After reading that script, I’m still not any closer to knowing what to expect. But Carl seemed sure it was going to be fun.”

Finn was reasonably certain that spending an evening with Carl would be stressful, no matter what they were doing, but he could see the way Kurt was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” he asked at last.

“Well,” said Kurt, “I was just wondering if you have any _expectations_ of what might happen with you and Carl on Friday. And if I should _expect_ you to come home desperately wanting me to fuck you again, or if maybe… Carl would be taking care of that?”

“No,” Finn assured him. “There will be no spending the night. Or — or sex in the movie bathrooms, or anything like that.”

“Hand job in the Corvette?” Kurt teased.

“Okay, maybe we’ve done that once or twice. But _no._ This isn’t about that.” He paused, then added, “I might ask him for other things, though.”

“Oh, thank god.” Kurt patted his shoulder. “Finn, I love you dearly, and what we just did was amazing, but I think we both know what you could really use is a good session with Carl and his whip, cuffed to the St. Andrew’s cross.”

Finn felt the shudder run through him, and he balled his fists in Kurt’s duvet as his eyes closed. _That’s for sure._

* * *

After the football game, Finn managed to make it over to Carl’s house without being spotted. He followed behind the Corvette and paused down the street, watching as it disappeared into the garage. There was no reason to expect anyone would care what Dr. Carl Howell was doing on a Friday night after the football game, but Finn absolutely did not want to _give_ anybody a reason to care.

He went around to the kitchen door as usual, where he wasn’t surprised to be greeted by Ms. Pillsbury.

“He’s still upstairs,” she said, letting him in. She gave him an awkward smile as he settled onto a bar stool at the kitchen counter. “He’sdeciding what to wear.”

“Oh, uh…” He went through a five-second panic before deciding it was useless to attempt to ask her to elaborate. Luckily she seemed to recognize his dilemma.

“His costume. When he attends a performance of Rocky Horror, he usually wears a specific one. Not Eddie.”

Finn glanced down at his own jeans and t-shirt, then back up at her. “He said we weren’t going to wear costumes.”

She nodded as though she understood. “Would you like something to drink while you wait? There’s lemonade.”

The weirdness was not lost on him, even as she poured him a glass over ice. He sipped the lemonade, watching out of the corner of his eye the way she stood, her hands behind her back, not quite at attention, but definitely in a submissive pose.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” he said at last.

She nodded again, just as before, this time with a self-deprecating smile. “You might understand, Finn, when I say I don’t answer to you.”

Finn swallowed the lump in his throat and sat there unhappily, drinking a little bit at a time until the lemonade was gone. He thought about his costume, which he was wearing under his jeans. He wondered what would happen if he asked if he could go upstairs and suggest Carl might wear his costume after all.

When Carl arrived in the doorway, wearing regular jeans and a t-shirt, Finn felt almost disappointed. Carl’s face was carefully neutral, but he wasn’t sure if he could trust his own face to appear the same. Ms. Pillsbury stayed where she was.

“Hi, Finn,” he said. “Good game tonight.”

He cleared his throat. “Thanks. More wins than losses this year. The coach knows what she’s doing.”

“Yeah, well, I think she’s not the only one.” Carl’s smile landed on his face and glanced off like a blow, knocking his gaze to the side. He waited, hoping Carl wouldn’t call him out for not accepting the compliment, but Carl didn’t do anything except take the glass of lemonade Ms. Pillsbury handed him.

“You ready to get on the road? It’s already after 10:30. We’re going to need to hurry if we want to be there before the credits. It’s kind of important to be there at the beginning.”

Carl didn’t kiss Ms. Pillsbury goodbye or anything, but he did speak quietly with her for a few moments. She inclined her head once, murmuring a response. Finn was pretty sure he caught at least one _yes, sir._ It made his stomach do a slow roll. Finally he slipped out the kitchen door and waited on the side porch until Carl came out to join him. They stood side by side for a long minute.

“Tough week?” Carl said softly.

The lump in his throat was back, three times as bad as before. He shrugged rather than try to explain. Carl waited until it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything, then continued past him, down the porch steps and across the driveway to stand beside the passenger door of the Corvette. When Finn stared at him, he smiled.

“I suspect it’ll be too late for you to drive on the way _back,_ but maybe you’d like to drive _there.”_

Finn hurried over to the driver’s side door and climbed in, his heart hammering against his ribs. He sat there, his hands on the ten and the two, until Carl had his seat belt on.

“I’m, uh, gonna need the keys.”

“Not until you tell me what’s the matter.”

It took him a few seconds before he could respond. “You… today. In Glee.”

“You have something to say about that?”

Finn confined his glare to the steering wheel. “What, you think I’m _not_ going to freak out when you show up in the middle of class and start singing and dancing?”

Carl settled into his seat. “You already knew I loved Rocky Horror.”

“So you decided to join our high school cast? Just… because?”

“I’m supporting the arts.”

Finn managed not to snort. “By doing ‘Hot Patootie’ and messing with Mr. Schue? What was that you said: _you guys have a hole to fill, and I’m just trying to help fill it?_ I can’t believe you even said that.”

Carl didn’t laugh. “We all wear masks, every day. That’s mine.”

“What do you mean, your mask?”

“I’m far more believable as a flirtatious womanizer than anything else.”

Finn felt his indignation slip. He stole a glance at Carl. “Oh. That’s a mask. You mean you’re pretending to be like that?”

“Sure. Just as you become the dumb jock, whenever it’s needed.”

“I don’t know if that’s really a mask.”

Now Carl _did_ laugh. “That was just about as transparent a plea for a spanking as I’ve ever heard.” He held out the keys, and after a startled second, Finn took them.

“I wasn’t!”

 _“_ Come on, _that’s_ even worse. Don’t tell me it’s been so long you’ve forgotten. We really need to get going.”

He let the thoughts tumble around in his head for a little while as he backed out of the driveway and eased his way down the road toward highway 117. Carl simply sat beside him in silence, waiting. 

“I really don’t think I am,” said Finn.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

He blew out a breath. “I didn’t think I had to prove anything to you anymore.”

“No. You don’t have to do that.” Carl’s tone was back to neutral. Finn signaled right and eased the Corvette into the slower lane.

“I guess things have been… kind of hard. Since Puck left.”

“And Blaine.”

 _Blaine didn’t leave, he was taken,_ he wanted to snap at Carl, but he managed to restrain himself and just nodded. “Kurt’s not doing so good. Neither is Sarah. Now my mom’s starting to freak out. Everybody’s barely getting by.”

“Seems like it might be exactly the time for some singing and dancing.”

He started to say, _no, that doesn’t make sense, you were the one singing and dancing, not me._ Then he realized what Carl meant. “Why? Are you freaking out too?”

“You don’t need to be concerned about that.”

That hurt a little, but it was fair, considering he’d said pretty much the same thing to Carl. He looked at Carl’s hand resting on the seat. “Whatever. I know I don’t hold the corner on being stressed out.”

“No.”

He knew just the way Carl’s hand would feel if he reached out and took it. “So… singing and dancing helps? Even if you have to deal with Mr. Schue?”

“It’s better than yelling. Or drinking.”

“Or going to the movies in your underwear?”

Carl laughed. “Well, that usually works too. Although I’m not doing that tonight.”

“I’m wearing mine. Under my jeans. Uh, on top of my — actual underwear.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Finn could see Carl’s eyes travel down his legs, then back to his face. He swallowed and went on.

“I’m going to have to wear them in front of the whole school anyway. I mean without the jeans. I thought tonight might be, you know, a chance to practice in front of people.”

“You’d be welcome to wear your costume at the theater, Finn, even if I’m not.”

He hesitated a moment before asking, “Do — you really dress up like Frank-N-Furter, like you said?”

“I really do. But, as I said, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to do that for your performance. Mercedes will do an admirable job. For me, being Frank isn’t about putting on masks. It’s about taking them off.”

“Not because you want to be a — to be transexual?”

“No. I think it’s because, in the life I’ve chosen, I don’t often have a chance to abandon pretense. Not in my career, not in the community. Not in my home.”

Finn tried to puzzle that out before he asked any more questions. Carl was hurting. He and Ms. Pillsbury were still together, and she knew everything about him. What was missing?

“Why can’t you be yourself in your home?” he asked finally.

Carl stayed silent. Finn let out a big sigh.

“Look, I know we’re not exactly friends, but… I don’t really know what we _are._ What you’re trying to be, with me. I don’t even know what to call you anymore.”

“You can call me Carl. Or Derek, if that’s easier.”

“No,” he muttered. “It’s not.”

Carl nodded. “Whatever you want, then. Although I think it would be better if you didn’t call me _sir_ unless we establish some more specific boundaries about what that entails.”

Finn nodded miserably, trying to keep his attention on the road. No matter how crappy he felt, he was _not_ going to wreck Carl’s Corvette.

“I know what we are isn’t clear, Finn. It’s complicated. It always has been between us, even from that very first day you came to my office. I remember being… intrigued by you. Not just your situation.”

“Yeah. I remember the day we met.” He shook his head. “You were totally hitting on me, weren’t you.”

“Maybe not hitting. Nudging. Regardless, it wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“No, you were awesome,” Finn protested. “I was — I mean, I didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t know _anything._ You were the first person to tell me, the things I was doing with Kurt and Puck, and the things I _wanted_ to do, were okay.”

“That may be, but it’s clear in retrospect I should not have been so… so careless with you.” Carl stared across the dashboard at the road. “I’m not saying this to assuage my own guilt, Finn, though I have plenty of that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You don’t need to feel guilty about us.”

“I don’t feel guilty about us. About other stuff.” He rearranged his hands on the steering wheel. “Like this. I feel guilty about doing fun things when everybody else feels like crap.”

“So are you telling me no one else should be happy when you’re unhappy?”

“No, that’s—“ He paused, then laughed. “Okay. I guess that sounds pretty stupid.”

Even in the dark of the highway, he could feel Carl’s eyes on him. “Going out with me tonight, this still counts as _doing fun things?”_

“Well, yeah. I wanted to come.”

“That’s really good to hear.”

Carl sounded perfectly calm and convincing, but Finn was pretty sure he knew better. “I don’t feel bad about anything we did.”

“Mmm,” Carl said skeptically, and Finn shot him an exasperated look.

“What, you really need me to tell you how much I fucking miss you?”

His next breath caught in his throat. Carl waited as he recovered.

“When I came over a couple weeks ago, and Ms—Emma made me breakfast, and you guys talked to me about Blaine, and…” He couldn’t say the rest, but Carl did it softly for him.

“When I told you Emma and I were getting married.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I took off like that. I just couldn’t deal with it in front of you. I didn’t know why I was so pissed, but… I think I’ve figured it out now.”

“All right.” In the dark, without having to look at him, it was easier for Finn to take his eternal patience. “Would you like to tell me?”

“I think… back when we started doing the things we did. When I became your boy.” He pushed the words out, not dwelling on the weight of them. “There were things we had, things that were just about us. And I’m not talking about the sex.”

“That _was_ just about us, Finn,” he said. “I haven’t had sex with anybody else in a long time.”

Finn made himself keep his eyes open. “You said that, last winter. And I know you were disciplining other people, at your office, and… there’s what you have with Emma. None of that bothered me, or if it did, I’m over it now.”

“So it’s not about those things.” Carl paused, then added, “After Adam’s concert, last summer. You said you wished we could have the kind of relationship Emma and I have.”

“But that wasn’t really it either. I don’t want to be your slave. And…” Finn licked his lips. “I definitely want to have sex with you.”

“You’re running out of things this could be about, Finn.”

He held back a laugh. “Do you remember how it was for us at Valentine’s Day? At Tessera?”

“How could I forget that? It’s literally etched into my flesh.”

Without meaning to, Finn brushed a hand over his chest, briefly touching the tattoo. “What I mean is, when we were there, we were able to be part of everything. Eating with us, in the same house, planning things, celebrating. All the ordinary stuff. The kind of things you do together when you’re… you know. Family.”

“I see.” The words came out slowly, like maybe Carl didn’t actually see. Finn felt the tension rising in his neck and back.

“If you marry Emma, you’d have a family to do those things with. And it wouldn’t be mine. I know you and me, we can’t get married. Even if I wasn’t thirty years younger than you, because I already kind of not-proposed to Puck and Kurt.”

“So what you’re trying to tell me,” said Carl, “is that you want me to hold off on creating a family for myself, so you can pretend I’m in yours.”

Finn huffed. “Did that _feel_ pretend to you?”

“Finn, listen to me.” Carl’s voice was back to being very patient and calm. Somehow, that made him even more angry. “I _have_ a family. There’s a reason I was so relaxed and happy at Tessera, because they’re it. That’s my family. I wasn’t visiting your family for Valentine’s Day. You were visiting mine.”

He sat with that idea for a while, trying to find fault with it, but eventually he sighed, sagging in his seat. “I like your family.”

“I do, too. Even if we get on each other’s nerves at times.”

“And I like Emma, too,” he added grudgingly.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I’m just…” Finn let himself make one petulant complaint, knowing Carl would hear it for what it was. “Of all the things I _wish_ we could have, the way it was at Tessera… that was the best. Even better than being out with you at the concert.”

“Because we could be just the way we were,” said Carl quietly, “and everyone accepted it. Accepted us, together.”

“Yeah,” Finn agreed, equally quietly.

“I think you will find, if you choose to continue in the lifestyle as you get older—“

“ _If??”_

“—that we all work to carve out safe havens like that in our lives. For some of us, it’s our homes; others go to places like my office for an hour or two, or places like Tessera on the weekends. The ordinary world will probably never quite accept you for who you are, Finn. Living on the boundaries of the world can be lonely.” He brushed Finn’s shoulder with one hand. “Your mother gave it up in favor of something more ordinary. I wouldn’t fault you if you made that choice.”

“But you would never do that.”

Carl laughed. “I gave up that option a long time ago. Although both Davis and I have gotten a lot better at our camouflage. Did I ever tell you about the radio call-in show I used to do?”

“A radio show? About — this stuff?” Finn made a feeble gesture above the gear shift.

“About sexuality in general, but with an emphasis on BDSM. Mark ran the sound. He came up with a way to disguise my voice so I didn’t have to worry about being recognized. Or I thought I didn’t have to worry.”

Finn managed not to let the mention of Mark’s name get to him. It wasn’t Carl’s fault Mark rubbed him the wrong way. “And people asked questions about sex? On the radio?”

“Sure, it was anonymous, so they could ask anything they wanted. I suppose it would be all online now, but this was actual broadcast radio.” He smiled. “One caller in particular turned out to be someone of significance to me.”

He made a face. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask…”

“Relax. It was Angela. We were friends in college, long before I did the show, but even with the voice modification, she recognized me. It scared me into dropping the show, but once we were in contact again, I was able to help her out of an abusive relationship. It taught me something else important, too.”

“What’s that?”

“That people sometimes do things they know are stupid or harmful because they’re more afraid of the alternative.”

The silence went on for a while after that, but it felt thoughtful rather than oppressive. When Finn reached out for Carl’s hand, Carl took it right away, and it didn’t seem strange or scary.

“You mean Puck, right?” asked Finn.

Carl squeezed his hand. “Well, in that situation, it was Angela, but you could make that leap.”

“Puck’s never really been much of a planner,” said Finn. “But after Beth was born, and especially with Blaine, things were different. In a lot of ways, that’s _more_ scary? The idea that he did this on purpose.”

“It’s hard when your boy goes off to do things on his own,” said Carl quietly, “and doesn’t ask you for help.”

“Now you mean you and me.”

“It applies to you and Puck, too.”

“Yeah, well.” Finn shrugged, glancing over at him with a little smile. “Seems like every time I’ve asked you for help in the last couple months, it ended up getting super complicated afterward.”

Carl nodded. “I can understand why you might want to avoid additional complications to your life. And yet…”

Finn waited, but Carl didn’t say anything else. He finally prompted, “What?”

“Well, I can’t help but be concerned that you’re trying to handle your existing complications without the aid of tools.”

“I know,” said Finn, aware of how glum he sounded. Carl chuckled.

“BDSM is not the only toolkit available to you to help you hone your precision and focus. There are other things you might try.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Carl sat back and propped his hands behind his head. “Oh, I don’t know. What about range practice?”

“Range with what?”

“Firearms, Finn. Target shooting.”

The suggestion seemed to come completely out of the blue, but such was his trust in Carl that Finn didn’t hesitate to accept it as a possibility. “Uh, I don’t know how my mom would feel about me learning how to shoot a gun.”

“You’d certainly need to get her permission, but I have the feeling she’d be okay with it. I find practicing at the range helps me in much the same way that meditation does. When I’m too caught up with things in my head, it helps me direct my focus elsewhere.”

Finn thought about this in silence for the rest of the drive. As he handed the keys back to Carl, he admitted, “It’s been hard to focus on school, even with Kurt and my folks and Holly helping.”

“That’s understandable. Shall we head inside?”

“I mean,” he said, a little desperately, “my grades are slipping, even though I’m doing my homework—“

“Finn,” Carl said, with the barest hint of command in his voice. “Are you looking for me to forgive you for your grades?”

He pressed his lips together, willing himself not to cry. “Maybe?”

The parking lot was crowded, but no one hurrying past them toward the theater was paying attention to them. Carl reached across the gear shift and took both of Finn’s hands, making sure Finn was looking at him.

“Are you doing the best you can?”

“I think so,” said Finn.

“Is that true, or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”

“I’m — no. I’m not doing all that good.” He looked helplessly at Carl, wondering if behind that patient exterior Carl was struggling as much as he was.

“All that well,” Carl prompted.

“All that well. And I _know_ you can help. And I _want_ you to help. I just don’t know if I can ask for help with this without wanting… other things.”

“Well, I can arrange a tutor for you. You did very well this summer when you had a small class.”

“Maybe.” That actually sounded like a good plan. He wondered what would have happened if he’d asked his mom for the same thing.

“And as for maintaining your focus, perhaps you’d let me try taking you to the range, where remaining completely clothed and pretending to be straight is somewhat mandatory.”

“At school, too,” said Finn. “Only sort of clothed, if we’re going to be doing Rocky Horror together.”

Carl grinned playfully. “Well, it’s not mandatory here.” He clasped Finn’s hand in his own. “Let me show you.”

Carl wasn’t kidding. The theater was packed, and half the attendees were happily wandering around in what looked like fancy underwear. It was much more creative and garish than it had been at Tessera, and everyone was smiling and laughing. Even with thoughts about Puck and Blaine in the back of his mind, there was no way Finn wasn’t going to get caught up in the collective mood of the audience.

They managed to find two seats together near the rear of the theater, away from the anxious row of people at the front who were being good-naturedly heckled by cast members in costume.

“They’re virgins,” Carl said to him. Finn looked down at him, startled.

“How can you tell?”

“No, it just means they haven’t seen Rocky Horror at the theater before.”

“Oh.” Finn watched one cast member hand an enormous penis-shaped balloon to one of the nervous guys. “I, uh, guess I count for that. Honestly, I didn’t know I had any ways left to _be_ a virgin.”

Carl’s smile widened. “Oh, yes,” he said softly. “You really do.”

Finn shivered as the guy obediently pretended to do obscene things to the balloon. The assembled costumed crowd cheered and applauded.

“You can go participate,” Carl offered. “I can wait here.”

“No, I —“ He glanced at Carl, waiting for his nod. “Is it okay if I just stay with you?”

“Yes, Finn. You can stay right here.”

He took Carl’s hand as soon as the lights went down, and didn’t let it go until the opening credits were over. The audience participation lines made him laugh, but it was impossible not to be distracted by Carl’s jeans-clad leg beside him. When Carl sang along to “Sweet Transvestite” in a breathy, seductive voice, he could barely keep his eyes on the screen.

Carl leaned over to him, not quite whispering, but Finn could feel the warmth of his closeness. “Do you see how Brad’s confidence is fading into confusion as Janet’s becoming excited and aroused? You can play that up on the stage.”

“Yeah.” Finn squirmed in his seat. “Is it okay if I — I mean, I’ll be right back.”

“No problem.” Carl watched him go, but he didn’t move to stop him.

The single-stall handicap bathroom was open. Finn closed and locked the door behind him and stared at himself accusingly in the mirror, at his own flushed cheeks and dilated eyes.

“Give it up,” he whispered. “This isn’t working.”

Then he unzipped his jeans and propped one foot up on the edge of the toilet, carefully removing plug #23 with practiced fingers and washing and rinsing it. As he stroked himself, he thought about Kurt’s fist inside him, those sharp focused thrusts, and about Blaine kneeling in front of Carl’s couch, coming from nothing more than the impact of his hand, but mostly about Carl curled behind him in his bed. That one time last summer was forever seared into his memory.

Afterward, his reflection was more calm as he replaced the plug and washed his hands.He gave himself a firm nod. _Focus._ Maybe now he could do that.

On the way back into the theater, he stopped at the concession stand for popcorn, telling himself it wasn’t a cover-up for what he'd done, he really did want some. Then the boy in front of him turned around and saw him, and all thoughts of subterfuge flew out of his head.

“Oh! Uh — hi.”

“Hi, Christopher,” said the boy. It was one of the twins who attended Blaine’s open mic every week. Finn was pretty sure he’d never heard him speak before. He wondered if he should admit he didn’t know the boy’s name.

Finn gestured vaguely at the door to the theater. “Do you come to Rocky Horror a lot?”

“Whenever we can,” said the boy, nodding. “August dresses up, but I don’t.” He cocked his head. “Did something happen between you and Patrick?”

Finn swallowed and shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“He seems sad, when he sings. It’s not as good without you and Derek.”

“I can’t right now,” he said carefully, “but maybe someday I can come back.”

He made his way back to his seat. Carl accepted the popcorn with a smile, pointing at the screen. “That’s Frank’s lover Eddie. Frank took half of Eddie’s brain and gave it to Rocky. He’s going to kill Eddie because he’s jealous of Eddie and Columbia’s relationship.”

“Jeez.” Finn stared at Eddie, driving around the room on his motorcycle.

“Yes, well, people do stupid things when they think their only two choices are loneliness or monogamy.” He rested a hand on Finn’s back. “Not that other choices don’t have their own drawbacks.” He leaned in a little closer. “Everything okay?”

“I — yeah. I’m okay.” He let the arc of Carl’s arm hold him for a moment, and watched Carl’s face soften. _He’s happier when he can take care of somebody, too,_ he realized. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

Carl nodded, glancing at his lap. “It was Emma’s idea. She thought it would be good for us.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know what to say to that. He cleared his throat. “You’re, uh, a lot hotter than that guy playing Eddie.”

That made Carl laugh. “He was a football-playing singer in high school, too, just like you, and he became a big rock star. Remind me to play you some of his records some time.”

Finn had a hard time choosing between smiling and crying for the rest of the night, but it seemed he wasn’t the only one, especially during the floor show. Carl just dug into his pocket and handed him a tissue.

“It was a lot sadder than I expected,” Finn told him as they walked back to the car. “I mean, Frank gets murdered and everybody leaves and Brad and Janet sing about bleeding inside and how the human race are like insects.”

Carl nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose. I don’t think people think of it as a tragedy, though. Maybe we’re small and insignificant compared to the powers that prey on us, but that doesn’t mean our lives are meaningless.” He unlocked the passenger door and held it open for Finn. When Carl walked around to the other side and took his place in the driver’s seat, Finn grabbed his hand.

“I’m sorry I keep giving you all these mixed messages.”

“Love is complicated, Finn,” Carl said. He squeezed Finn’s hand, then let it go and patted his knee. “But we don’t have to give up on this relationship just because it’s hard. Keep talking to me. I’ll keep listening. And, as much as it might seem strange to acknowledge it, I’m grateful you’re in Rachel’s life.”

 _Rachel._ He hadn’t even thought of her once that night. That made him feel guiltier than anything else he’d done. “Yeah. I—I want to take care of her.”

Carl gave him a sharp, startled look. “I don’t think she—“ he began, but Finn cut him off.

“Not like that. I mean, she really doesn’t want that, but she does want somebody who loves her for who she is. Maybe that’ll end up being me and maybe it won’t. I think I might be the only one who does, sometimes.”

He frowned. “Don’t do it out of obligation, Finn.”

“But I _like_ doing it out of obligation.” He laughed at Carl’s doubtful look. “ _Obliged._ Isn’t that kind of what it means to be committed to somebody? To _actually_ be faithful? I want her to know she can count on me.”

His smile was thin. “Not if what she’s counting on isn’t honest.”

“I thought I was being honest.”

“Yes. You are. Just… keep doing that, okay? Don’t tell her what she wants to hear. Nobody needs that. Tell her the truth in the kindest possible way.”

Finn sat with that idea for a while in the silence as they drove. He drummed his fingers on the leather until he realized he was doing it and made himself stop.

“Okay,” he said. “So here’s my truth, in the kindest possible way. I’m feeling like a failure in just about every part of my life except with Rachel. When I spend time with you, I just feel like even more of a failure because I can’t stop wanting things I told myself would be bad for me. But Kurt and the Coach and you and even Ms. Pillsbury are all telling me _I’m_ wrong, that I _need_ you, need the stuff you can give me. And I don’t know if I should trust myself or all of you guys.”

Carl nodded. “Do you think if you had more control over our relationship, you’d be happier?”

“Maybe I’d feel less like a failure, but…” He shuffled his feet on the floor mat. “No. I don’t really like being in control with you. I just don’t like feeling so _out_ of control the rest of the time.”

“You want some more tools to stay in control, while your subs are absent.”

 _Absent._ Finn closed his eyes and nodded. “We can try the target practice, if you really think that would help.”

“I do. My biggest concern is that you said being around me makes you want other things. I don’t want to put you in a position that feels bad.”

“Do you think,” Finn said, choosing his words carefully, “we could find a way to do the other things in a way that wouldn’t be so dangerous?”

There was a long pause. “I’m making some broad assumptions about what we mean by _other things_ ,” Carl replied, just as carefully.

“Yeah.” The words felt thick in his mouth. “I think it’s fair to say I, uh. I want to do all of them.”

“Did you enjoy being out with me, here, where no one knew us?”

He grimaced. “Um. I actually ran into somebody tonight who did know us, from Irene’s. Not that he would have told anybody about us. But—“

“Yeah.” Carl sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Perhaps Columbus isn’t quite far enough for the kind of things you’re talking about. Chicago, maybe. And there’s always Tessera, on a weekend, but that would take some planning.” He raised an eyebrow at Finn. “And it would be best to wait three months, until you turn eighteen.”

“Okay,” Finn whispered.

“Does that sound like it might work?”

“Honestly?” He tried to smile. “I’m just trying not to beg you for it.”

Carl let out another sigh, a longer one this time. Finn recognized it as a measured breath, one of the tools Carl had given him before to help maintain control.

“Okay if I put on some music?” he asked at last.

“Yeah. Do that.”

104.9 was the first preset on the Corvette’s radio. Finn let his eyes close again as the power chords of Boston washed over him.

_More than a feeling  
_ _When I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)  
_ _And I begin dreaming  
_ _’Til I see Marianne walk away_

“I used to think Marianne must have been pretty stupid to walk away from a guy like Tom Scholz,” said Carl. He was tapping out the drum part on the steering wheel.

Without thinking, Finn reached out with his hand and rested it on Carl’s leg. Just as automatically, Carl brought his hand down to rest on top of Finn’s.

“Yeah,” said Finn. “She must have been.”

“Maybe.” Carl shrugged. “But I was thirteen when that album came out. It’s not like I really understood all the complexities of relationships at that time. I was just lonely and horny and I didn’t think anybody was ever going to like me.”

Finn wet his lips. “Well, somebody does. I mean… I do. A lot.”

He grinned that grin that always made Finn think, no matter how old Carl was, part of him must still be thirteen inside. “Have I told you recently how monumentally amazing that is?”

“No.” He turned his hand over underneath Carl’s, and felt something inside him settle as their fingers interlaced. “You can tell me now, though. Or, you know. Do whatever.”

“Whatever. That is very tempting.” Carl gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps you would be willing to come to my office tomorrow and I could arrange a safe venue in which to negotiate and execute the _whatever?_ ”

Finn squeezed Carl’s hand back, and he let out a relieved laugh. “Yeah. You know, for some of your _whatever_ , I’ll even deal with Mark.”


	31. Rocky Horror Glee Show, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s amazing to go back to earlier Donutverse stories and read the dynamic between Kurt and Dave, and observe how it has evolved to this point. I’m relieved they’re not adversaries anymore. On the other hand, I kind of want to whack both Will and Toby upside the head. 
> 
> Quoting here from 2x18 because Dave’s storyline is accelerated in the Donutverse. You'll see what I mean.
> 
> -amy

 

Holly came in through the kitchen doorway when she arrived at the house on Wednesday afternoon, kicking off her shoes onto the tile. She didn’t bother to knock, but Kurt didn’t think this was a problem. By now Holly knew so much about all of them, there wasn’t likely to be anything she could see that would surprise her.

“Sorry,” she said cheerfully, “somebody’s been gardening out there, and I got mud all over my pumps. Isn’t it a little late in the season for digging in the dirt?”

“Carole said it’s still warm enough for the annuals to stick around for a little longer,” Kurt said sharply, then sighed at her raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I’m sure that sounded defensive.”

“I was thinking more like she’s crazy if she thinks they’re going to survive past Halloween.” Holly pulled up a stool at the counter, watching Kurt assembling dinner. “You might as well go first today, since you’re already here.”

“I think I’m going to be the only one today, actually. Finn’s at play rehearsal until 6:30, and Dad and Carole are working late.”

“Their loss,” she said, shrugging. “What about Sarah?”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t know if you’ll get her out of her room.”

“She’s been talking to the kids online, at least. I shouldn’t even say that much to you. Technically you could be on there with them, since you’re under eighteen for — what, another nine months?” She waited for Kurt’s affirming nod, then went on. “Yeah, but… no. You’ve been tipping into the _adult_ camp for a while now, and I’m not just talking about the bedroom activities.”

“Some days I feel more like an adult than others.” He carefully placed the fish on the broiler pan, painting each piece with sauce. “God, I miss Noah’s cooking.” He sighed, staring at the floor. “I miss… a lot of things about Noah.”

“I take it there’s been no word, then.”

Kurt shook his head once. “Sarah said Jake’s mother told her they were going to send in an officer to make an inquiry. Whether or not they’ll make any headway will depend on what they find. Noah hasn’t come up in any reports or police chatter. All we can do right now is wait.”

“And you’re so good at that.”

Holly’s voice was teasing, but her face was serious. Kurt felt another flash of anger. He slid the fish into the oven. “You really think I should be doing _nothing?”_

She leaned her chin in her hands, gazing at him. “I think you already told me what you should be doing.”

This time the heat in his cheeks wasn’t from anger. Kurt knew precisely what Holly was talking about. He opened the cupboard and took out plates and glasses, setting them on the counter in stacks.

“Have you spoken to Adam at all? About anything?”

“No. He’s — busy. He’s going to Hawaii next week.” Kurt knew that was no excuse at all. Holly was just watching him, waiting. He closed his eyes. “I don’t want him to know how bad things are here.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s a chance he’d cancel his tour and come back.”

“Wouldn’t that be his decision?” she asked calmly.

“He’s not rational about Noah,” Kurt snapped. “Something like this would push him over the edge. And I can’t be responsible for that.”

She leaned toward him. “Since when are you _responsible_ for what a grown man chooses to do?”

He took a steadying breath. It was almost impossible to consider putting what was going on with him and Adam into words, much less speaking it aloud, but he tried. “I… take care of him, sometimes.”

To her credit, she didn’t react, other than to nod. “So he agreed to make you responsible in this way?”

“No. No. It’s — it’s not like that. We switch, but lately he’s… he’s needing more from me. Or he did, over the summer.”

She gave him a chiding look. “Kurt, I know enough about how this works to know if it’s not spelled out in advance, it ain’t really happening. You need to clarify things with your partners. I’m gonna go so far as to say Adam would probably be surprised to hear you’re feeling responsible for him in this way.”

He winced. It hurt enough that with anyone else, he would have closed off, but Holly wasn’t going to let him get away with that. He forced his hands down from his face and kept breathing, reminding himself _this is safe, this is safe_. “Okay. Maybe that’s true, but —“

“And you’re down a couple boyfriends, here, so I’m guessing you might need him more now than you did in August?”

“Okay,” he cried. “I’ll call him.” Kurt paused long enough to glare at her. “I thought therapists weren’t supposed to give advice.”

She laughed. “You really think I’m _not_ going to tell you what to do? Okay, that’s one thing taken care of. What’s all this about Finn in play rehearsal?”

Kurt outlined their plans for Rocky Horror, including Ms. Pillsbury’s most recent involvement as costume designer. Holly seemed fascinated by the whole situation.

“You’re okay with playing the supporting role?” she asked.

He gave her a fervent nod. “I would not choose to play Frank, and Brad isn’t my part. I’m perfectly okay with a character part here. It’s more fun anyway.”

“Huh.” She cocked her head. “You always struck me as someone who would fight to be the star.”

“I have plenty of drama in my life right now, thank you,” he said. That made her smile. After a few moments, he smiled back.

“You know, Kurt, you’re one of the most focused young men I know,” she told him. “I’ve met a lot of outrageously talented teenagers, including your boyfriend’s brother, and not one of them is as driven to do the things you want to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like strive to be bigger than yourself. To make something of yourself. You’re going to get noticed, Kurt. Sooner or later, someone will recognize your potential.”

He smiled weakly. “Would it be completely awful if I said I’d rather not be noticed at the moment?”

“No, but I think it wouldn’t be _true,_ either. You can be driven and exhausted at the same time.”

He set the spatula down on the counter. “I think the hardest part is that the things I’m driven to want aren’t things I can get alone. It’s hard to take care of somebody if they’re not around to let you.”

She raised her hands to the ceiling. “Are you actually making my point about Adam _for_ me? It’s like I don’t even have to say a word. Auto-therapy.”

“I wasn’t _talking_ about him,” he said, laughing. “And — yes. You’re brilliant. Want to stay for dinner, oh miracle worker?”

She smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Dave still had twenty minutes left on the clock before his SAT study group was scheduled to be over, but he’d already made it through all of the material on his syllabus. He raised his voice to be heard over the quietly murmuring voices. “How about you try the strategy we discussed on these practice problems? Then we can pair up and talk about how it worked.”

The last person he expected to see stroll in through the door was Santana Lopez. But she didn’t seem surprised to see him. On the contrary, given her intentional movements toward him, it appeared she had come looking for him. She sat down at the empty table across from Dave. He gave her his best “Duke Stud” smile.

“Santana. I didn’t see your name on the attendance list.”

“There’s a reason for that,” she said. “It’s because I’m not on it. I have a proposal.”

He raised his chin. “Should have known you’d ask me out eventually.”

“Give it up,” she snapped. “I know.”

“Know what?”

“About your friendship with Blaine.”

Hearing Blaine’s name from Santana’s lips in the middle of his study session made him blanch. There was no question about _which Blaine_ she meant. “What? Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me.” She gave him a withering look. “First of all, I was around when Blainers was still playing with My Little Ponies and reading Charlotte’s Web every night. My mom was his housekeeper for years. Even if he didn’t talk about you, I knew about the two of you. You know, you really should have been more careful with your secret library dates.”

“I was just looking for something to read,” he muttered.

She ignored that. “Second of all, I know about all the stuff you did to Kurt. That broken wrist, freshman year? And the truth about who stuffed him into his locker last year? Guess what. It’s out.”

“I didn’t —“ He had nothing he could say about that that wouldn’t be a lie. “Okay, yes, I used to mess with him. I kicked his ass, more than once. But that’s over now. I apologized.”

Santana leaned over the table, giving him a sultry look. “Let’s say I believe you. That maybe you and Kurt are pals now, or something. Not sure how you pulled that off, but who am I to question methods? Maybe you’re a better liar than I am, I don’t know. But the truth is, I need you, and you need me.” She sighed. “And Kurt, and apparently Finn. And Puck, I guess, although who the hell knows if he’s getting out of juvie any time soon.”

He shook his head, trying not to panic. _There was no way she could know about me. Matt liked her, but he never trusted her. He wouldn’t have told her._ “Why are you doing this?”

“We all play on the same team. Team Blainers.” She dropped her voice. “He’s in trouble. Have you even talked to him since he went back to school?”

“I — no. I don’t talk to him.” That was not quite true, considering how they’d seen each other twice over the summer, once at Blaine’s performance of RENT, and once while laying hardwood flooring at Finn and Puck and Kurt’s new place. Both times he’d heard Blaine sing, and like all the other times he’d ever had the fortune to hear him do that, the memories still haunted his dreams, months later.

“Well, the short version is, this summer he was actually happy, and now he’s fake-happy. And not only is he not letting on that there’s a difference, he’s excluding everybody who _made_ him happy this summer.” She gave him a grim look. “You have any idea who I’m talking about?”

“You’re…” He swallowed, staring back at her. “You know about them?”

Now she was staring back. “Wow, you really _do_ know. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said _them.”_

“How do _you_ know?” he demanded.

“Because I’ve had sex with two out of the three of them.” Santana smirked. “One guess which gold-star gay hasn’t made it into my bed. And I suppose you could say they’re my friends, even though Glee club is super lame. Whatever. Blaine’s the one who needs help here. If you care about him, you’ll step up.”

This whole conversation was getting completely out of hand. Dave scowled at her. “This is garbage. I don’t _care_ about him.”

“Give it up, Karofsky.” She wasn’t smiling now. “Blaine’s prick of a father is the enemy, and he’s messing with Blaine’s head. So here’s my offer. I’m gonna start attending your stupid-ass study group every week. After you bore the crap out of every one of us, you and me, we’re going to come up with a plan for how to dig Blaine out of his self-imposed prison.”

“And what if I say no?”

She straightened up. “Then I’m going to tell Principal Figgins about how you broke Kurt’s wrist freshman year, along with all the other stunts you pulled, and you’ll be prosecuted for assault. So… you in or not?”

Somehow Dave managed to stumble back to the front of the classroom and finish leading the wrap-up discussion without passing out. Afterwards, Santana disappeared with the rest of the students without waiting for an answer, but it was clear he was going to have to go along with her scheme.

Once he was safely back in his car, with no possibility of anyone around him listening in, he called Kurt. He wasn’t even sure if Kurt would pick up — since Puck’s disappearance, Kurt had grown more and more distant — but it only rang twice.

 _“Hi, Dave.”_ He sounded resigned already.

“Hey,” said Dave. “Uh, look… I was doing my study group tonight, and… did you know Santana was going to see Blaine?”

 _“Finn told me she was going, yes.”_ Kurt paused. _“What is it?”_

He drummed on the steering wheel and stared across the dashboard, his mind full of memories of all the things he’d done to Kurt freshman year. “She came to see me. It’s bad, Kurt.”

 _“I know.”_ Now Kurt sounded annoyed. Dave cringed at his tone of voice.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I said — when your dad was in the hospital and you asked me to help, I told you _no, I can’t,_ and —“ He swallowed the tears that threatened. “I should have said yes.”

_“I don’t think there’s anything you can do about that now.”_

_No,_ he thought, gritting his teeth. _I can_. But he just said, “Yeah, maybe not.”

 _“It’s not as simple as it seems,”_ Kurt said. There was a noise, like Kurt might be crying. Dave stilled his hands.

“Kurt, are you okay?”

 _“I don’t think so.”_ That was definitely a sniff. Dave shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to come over?”

He’d never offered to do that before, and as soon as he said it, he regretted it. Maybe Kurt wouldn’t want him at his house. Maybe Kurt would rather he stopped calling entirely, if he wasn’t going to help Blaine. The thought made him panic a little. _I am. I have to._ But he couldn’t say it.

 _“I’d like that,”_ Kurt said.

Dave wasn’t sure he’d heard him right, but he didn’t know if he could ask him to repeat himself. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Is it too late?”

“ _No, it’s okay. Sarah’s already in bed, so don’t ring the doorbell. Come to the front door. I’ll meet you there.”_

He wasn’t going to ask _are you sure?_ He started the car, making the tires squeal a little as he backed up out of his parking spot and narrowly missing the bright red Corvette parked beside him. “I’m on my way.”

It wasn’t like Dave had never been to Kurt’s new house before. It just hadn’t been for such a _friend_ thing. He was so distracted, he didn’t even remember to hang up the phone until five minutes later. By then, Kurt had already disconnected the call. He hoped Kurt hadn’t heard him humming under his breath in the meantime.

When Dave arrived, he pulled into the same spot his car had occupied that summer, along the shoulder of the long dirt stretch of Bellefontaine beside their house. Then he looked at the long, empty, paved driveway, let out an exasperated sigh, and put the car into gear again. This time he parked in the driveway where a pool of light was cast by the streetlamp above.

He could see Kurt sitting in the front window before he even climbed the steps to the porch. Kurt stood up, wrapping his bathrobe closer around his flannel pajama pants, and went to open the door. Dave supposed it could have bothered him that Kurt was standing in the doorway in his pajamas, but it didn’t seem any weirder than seeing him in the clothes Kurt wore to school every day. His eyes were definitely red.

“Come in,” Kurt said, holding the door open wider. He scrubbed at his face with what looked like a handkerchief. Dave didn’t know any kid who actually carried a handkerchief, but if anybody did, it would be Kurt Hummel.

“Are you sure your dad won’t care I’m here this late?” Dave asked, taking off his shoes.

Kurt gave him a look that was a mere shadow of his snarky self. “I’m sure. He’s asleep. Finn’s at Rachel’s. Carole doesn’t get home until ten.”

Following Kurt up the staircase to his room felt a little surreal. It didn’t really occur to him just how stupid a question that had been until he walked past Finn’s bedroom, the door ajar. No one was inside, but he felt his face heat up. Of course Kurt would be allowed to have guys up to his bedroom. He was sleeping in a room that adjoined to his _boyfriend’s_ room by a bathroom. They were probably doing all kinds of —

“Uh, just a sec,” Kurt said, holding up a hand, his voice coming out high and a little panicked.

Dave froze in Kurt’s doorway, averting his eyes, but he couldn’t fail to notice Kurt hurrying ahead of him, tucking something on the bed out of sight.

His face was more red than Dave’s when he was done, and he sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress, glancing around himself. Dave tried very hard to keep his eyes in one place, not wanting to see anything else Kurt had forgotten to hide.

“Sorry about that. I don’t usually have people in my room who aren’t —“

Kurt stopped that thought before it could go any further, and laughed quietly to himself, but Dave could hear the unspoken words. _Who aren’t already having sex with me._ He wiped his forehead off on his sleeve. _Jesus._

“You’ve had Blaine here.”

Kurt looked up at him, startled, and shook his head. “We haven’t. I mean, he’s been in this room, yes, but we — he and I, we’re not—”

“That’s not what I meant!” Dave hissed. “I seriously don’t need details.”

Kurt just looked away, wrapping his arms around himself and holding on. Dave hadn’t seen Kurt this flustered in a long time. It didn’t make him feel very good, but he did somehow feel a little less scared to ask questions. 

“How much do you think he’s actually missing you guys?”

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know. I don’t know _anything._ All I know is what his roommate Jeff told me, and what Santana told Finn. I can’t… I have to _see._ ” He wiped at his face again. “Blaine sings at an open mic in Columbus on weekends, where his dad lives. I guess he’s going home every weekend now, so his father can keep an eye on him. We had a report that he… he wasn’t himself.”

 _Fake-happy._ Santana had said those words. He swallowed. “You want me to go and watch him?”

“No, I’m going to go myself. His father doesn’t know about me.” Kurt laughed, his voice hoarse. “Blaine might not, either. Apparently, he doesn’t even remember the things we did this summer.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.” Dave wasn’t about to sit on Kurt’s bed, but he did grab the desk chair and pulled it up to sit across from him. He searched for Kurt’s downcast eyes, and eventually reached out and nudged his hand with his knuckles. Kurt immediately reached out and grasped his hand. Dave stared at it, his heart stuttering a little, but he maintained a firm grip. The last thing Kurt needed was a wet fish. “You and him, after the musical? He, uh, really looked happy with you.”

“I was really happy with him,” Kurt whispered. He glanced up at Dave with a watery smile. “I have no idea what I did to deserve that kind of friendship, but… I fell in love with him.”

Dave licked dry lips. He felt a little stab of anger in his gut, but it was manageable. The truth was Kurt didn’t deserve any of his anger, no matter what Dave had said to him over the summer. “Yeah, well, I guess a lot of that is going around?”

“Yeah.” Kurt’s eyes went far away. “Noah did that first, even though we didn’t know that boy in the bar he kept having dreams about was Blaine until this summer. And then Finn met him at the coffee house in Columbus, and he wasn’t — it wasn’t a romantic relationship. Until it was. All of us, we just… fell into place.”

When Kurt started crying, Dave stayed where he was, holding onto Kurt’s hand. He didn’t know if it would be better or worse if he let go, but Kurt didn’t look mad about him being there. He thought about saying _Santana and I are going to come up with a plan_ , but it sounded so dorky, he kept it to himself.

“And now Noah’s gone, too,” Kurt went on, through his tears, “and I can’t talk to anybody about it, and —“ He shuddered, trying to control his reaction.

Dave had seen a lot of Finn and Kurt together, but almost none of Puck and Kurt. He guessed he could see Puck’s appeal, in a very superficial sense, but he still hadn’t figured out what would make Kurt so loyal to a guy like Puck. But this… it was almost like Kurt was being protective of him. Taking care of him. It didn’t make sense.

“Do you have any more information about where he is?” Dave asked.

“We know it’s in Oregon. Puck’s half-brother’s mom is a police officer. She’s investigating.”

“I can’t believe his father did this to him.”

Kurt started crying again. This time Dave let go of his hand, rising to his feet, and began pacing the length of the room.

“They’re doing whatever they can to try to find him and bring him home, but…” Kurt sniffed. “He’s there because he agreed to be. In theory, anyway. I think that’s the worst part.”

Dave stopped in front of Kurt’s dresser, looking without really looking at the scattered pins and tubes of cream and the framed picture of Adam Lambert ( _that_ seemed kind of random, but whatever, Kurt could like all the stupid music he wanted). “I’m sorry, Kurt. That sucks so much. On top of your dad’s heart attack, too. This has been a pretty shitty year for you guys so far.”

“And you,” said Kurt.

Dave shrugged. He noticed there was a signature on the Adam Lambert picture. “It hasn’t been so bad. Kind of like it was last year.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Dave,” Kurt said. He sounded miserable. “I don’t _want_ you to be an asshole to me at school anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure what the alternative is. It’s not like we can be friends.” The picture was signed _Kurt — Take a step and fall into the glitter — Adam._

“We _are,”_ Kurt said. Dave turned around to see Kurt standing, staring angrily at him, his hands balled into fists. “We _are_ friends, and I’m _sick_ of pretending.”

Dave took a step back and bumped into the dresser. The framed picture fell face-first, and Dave hastened to pick it up.

“I can’t come out at school, Kurt,” Dave said, trying not to sound panicked.

“I’m not talking about school. I’m talking about everything I’m keeping _from you._ From so many people, but — I don’t want to keep things from you.” He sounded perplexed, which Dave definitely got.

“Why do you even trust me?” Dave demanded. He was still holding the frame that had fallen, and he brandished it at Kurt. “ _Me?_ Why would you — after everything that happened? After everything I did to you?”

“Because you trusted _me._ You let me in, when I know you don’t let _anybody_ in.” Kurt took three strides over and seized the picture from his hand. “Believe me, I spent years keeping everything from everybody. I got really good at being lonely and pretending it was normal. But now I know it’s not. And now I’ve got this chance to be friends with a guy who’s smart and funny and drops everything to come over to my house when I’m crying about somebody we both care about a lot.”

“A lot,” Dave echoed. He felt the words stick in his throat, and he pushed them out before he could stop himself. “You think I’m funny?”

“When you tell the punchline wrong,” Kurt sang, immediately. His hand came up to cover his mouth, and they both started laughing at the same time.

“That fucking song,” Dave said, between snorts. “I can’t hear it on the radio without thinking about Blaine and Puck singing it this summer at your house.”

“You don’t even know the story about how it was written for Puck and Finn,” said Kurt. He was smiling now.

Dave couldn’t stop giggling. “You’re totally making that up.”

“I’m not. God, Dave, there’s so much I could tell you, about so many things. And I know you would never tell anybody, because — you wouldn’t.” He gazed soulfully at Dave. Then he cradled the framed photo of Adam Lambert against his chest. “Noah and I have a secret boyfriend who lives in California. He’s on tour right now.”

“He’s —“ Dave choked off his laugh and stared at the picture Kurt was holding. “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way,” Kurt whispered. “And I haven’t told him about Noah being gone. He just thinks he stopped calling because he’s being resistant. He doesn’t know anything about why —“

“Kurt,” Dave protested. “You can’t ask me to believe… that. _Any_ of it. Who’s delusional now? Isn’t that taking celebrity worship to Ludicrous Speed?”

“You want me to get him on the phone right now and prove it to you?” Kurt snapped. “He’d be pissed, because he’s in Australia, getting ready to fly to Hawaii on Sunday. Plus I didn’t even _ask_ him if I could tell you about him.”

Dave stared at him, his heart thumping. “It’s — it’s not possible.”

“My life is _chock full_ of impossible things, Dave!” Kurt was shouting now.

Dave put his hands on Kurt’s arms, shushing him, and Kurt just crumpled into his chest, quaking. Dave was forced to put his arms around Kurt to hold him up, or he would have fallen.

It was entirely possible this was the most terrified Dave had ever felt in his life. If Kurt hadn’t been so wrecked, Dave was sure he would have been halfway across the room, yelling at him: _what the fuck do you expect of me, huh? You steal the only guy I’ve ever loved and you want me to be your best friend?_

But that was, apparently, exactly what Kurt expected. In fact, that was what _had_ happened. Kurt _was_ his best friend.

Dave grabbed Kurt in his arms and squeezed, hoping he wasn’t doing it too tightly, but Kurt seemed to appreciate it. He buried his face in Dave’s jacket, crying hard, and Dave just tried to keep breathing and holding on to him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t want to make all of this harder.”

“You’re not,” Kurt said, still crying, “I promise, you’re not. It’s hard all on its own. You’re helping. This is helping.”

Dave thought maybe it would be easier if Kurt could sit down, so he gave him a couple nudges toward the bed, and Kurt followed his lead. Dave sat next to him, still keeping one arm around him, watching him uncertainly.

“You’re sure?” he asked, then grimaced. “I know, it’s a stupid question.”

Kurt sighed, laughing a little as he wiped his eyes on his sodden handkerchief. “It’s not stupid.”

He turned away, rummaging in a drawer by his bed and came out with a clean handkerchief, but not before Dave caught sight of several leather implements, a big bottle of lube and what had to be a sex toy in the drawer. He desperately hoped he would not actually collapse with embarrassment right there on Kurt’s bed.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Dave muttered.

“How to do what?”

 _How to be a best friend. How to care about anybody like this. How to say the things I’m thinking._ He shook his head helplessly. “How to — fix this. Any of this.”

“Dave, I don’t need you to fix anything. I just want you to listen.” Kurt smiled, apparently done crying for the moment. “And you’re doing that.” He set the picture of Adam Lambert on the bedside table. “Maybe I shouldn’t have thrown that stuff about Adam at you in the middle of everything. But it’s related. I miss him as much as I miss Blaine and Noah. Maybe more. Right now I feel like I’m losing… everybody.”

Dave tried not to squirm where he sat. “Well…” He swallowed. The obvious response felt like incredible hubris, but he made himself say the words anyway. “You’re not losing me.”

Kurt sighed again, this time not from despair, but from relief. His smile, turned on Dave, felt a little like staring into the sun. Dave tried not to squint and shield his eyes.

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that,” said Kurt.

“So…” He cleared his throat, trying to hang onto some semblance of sanity. “Do I get to hear the story about… Adam? Or maybe the one about the Katy Perry song?”

Kurt chuckled. “How much time do you have?”

He checked the clock by Kurt’s bed, then took off his jacket, tossing it on the floor. “Maybe an hour before my dad starts to wonder where I am.”

It was a long story. Dave didn’t interrupt very often, except to ask for clarification about a few parts that were just too strange or too convoluted to figure out on his own (“Lady Gaga’s _house_?” _)_. He wasn’t exactly sure at what point he shifted from skepticism to acceptance, but eventually, it stopped sounding like a soap opera and started to be part of what he understood was true about Kurt and Puck and Finn.

 _And Blaine,_ he added, and it didn’t hurt too much.

“Okay.” Dave took a deep breath, feeling his chest expand as something in his stomach loosened. They’d ended up sprawled on top of Kurt’s bed, Kurt on his side and Dave leaning against the wall. “So you saw him at the concert this summer. And before that, at the beginning of the summer. That was after he stayed with Beth and N- Puck for a month.”

“Yes, he brought Noah back to Lima for the reunion. That’s when Noah gave Katy the ideas for her song. They did the demo, the two of them, on the beach — you know what, hang on…” Kurt browsed through his phone, then pressed play and set it down with a satisfied expression. Dave could hear Puck and another girl singing along to a guitar. It was rough, but it was definitely “Teenage Dream,” and he guessed if he listened more to the radio, he’d recognize the girl’s voice as Katy Perry’s. Dave sat through the whole thing in silence.

 _Blaine sounded better,_ he wanted to say, but instead he said, “That’s amazing.”

“That whole week in the woods with Finn’s family, it was eye-opening. Noah was incredible with Finn’s little cousins. He just dove in and started _parenting._ I’d seen him with Brad’s kids when we babysat, but I didn’t really trust that he was ready to be a father until I saw him do that.” Kurt shook his head, smiling. “We joked that Finn was the Papa Bear and I was the Mama Bear, but after that, I decided I would have to be the Baby Bear. Puck is definitely the Mama Bear.”

Dave chuckled. “You’re the Baby Bear?”

“Uh… hi.”

They both looked up in surprise to see Finn standing in Kurt’s doorway. Finn looked equally surprised to see Dave lying on Kurt’s bed. Dave scrambled to get up.

“Dave, no,” said Kurt, but Dave shook his head, snatching up his jacket from the floor.

“I have to go, anyway,” he said, not looking at Finn. “I’ll—I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The drive home was made somewhat more hilarious by the radio playing “Whataya Want From Me.” Dave found himself listening rather than turning it off, and decided it didn’t completely suck. He tried to picture Adam Lambert holding an infant and snuggling with Noah Puckerman, but that turned out to be beyond imagining.

His father gave Dave a little surprised nod as he came in the front door. Apparently he hadn’t realized Dave hadn’t yet returned home from teaching the study group.

Dave got ready for bed before sending Kurt a text. He waffled over the wording for far too long. At the last minute, he added Finn’s number to the To: field.

_I have some ideas about how I can help Blaine deal with his father’s demands. Once I figure out the details, I’ll tell you more._

Finn replied first. _Anything you can do would be great. Thanks._

He didn’t get Kurt’s reply for another half hour. It came just as he was drifting off to sleep. _I said you didn’t need to fix this, Dave, and I meant it. But thank you._

Dave wasn’t sure how to convey to Kurt that, no, he really did need to fix this, or that it was as much about Kurt and about himself as it was about Blaine. He certainly wasn’t going to say the words _there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you_ to Kurt, but it was as close to how he was feeling as any words could get.

He didn’t even say _you’re welcome,_ which was something his father had always taught him to say, because his father had also taught him that actions spoke louder than words, and he was going to get into action.

* * *

Toby took off his glasses — so far, he only needed them for reading, and he outright refused to try contact lenses — and rubbed his tired eyes, followed by a long sip of soda. The end of Toby’s day had become the most stressful part. It was only October, and he’d already begun to field tearful office visits from Vocal Adrenaline members who couldn’t deal with Dustin Goolsby’s style of teaching. Mostly he avoided Dustin when he could, but Toby knew he was going to have to approach him at some point, and he was already dreading that confrontation.

His phone buzzed. When he picked it up and saw it was from Will, he paused. “Huh.” But it was only for a moment. Even a couple weeks of silence between the two of them wasn’t enough for him to avoid Will’s calls entirely, not after the three years they’d spent apart after Will and Terri got married. He had no interest in going through that again.

He put the phone to his ear, not bothering to pretend to sound cheerful. “Hey, Will.”

 _“Toby,”_ said Will cautiously. _“You got a minute?”_

“I got several of them.” He had to fight to leave off the endearments. _Darlin’_ tripped easily off his tongue whenever Will was on the other end of the line. “What’s on your mind?”

Will sighed, long and slow, and Toby stifled his own echoing sigh. He wasn’t exactly interested in hearing more about Emma, but he resolved to sit through whatever Will wanted to tell him anyway. Whatever he and Will had always been, they were friends first and foremost.

 _“I don’t really know how I got into this situation,”_ he said.

“Do tell,” Toby murmured, leaning on his elbow. _Like I’ve never heard that from you before._

_“I made a total fool of myself today in Glee. We’re doing this musical… Mike Chang was the lead, but his parents pulled him at the last minute. Carl came in to try to save us.”_

“Carl — oh, he’s Emma’s beau, right?” He tried to remember what he knew about Carl. “The dentist? Brad told me about him coming to visit your kids at school. Apparently he’s a pretty good singer himself.”

 _“Yeah, but I didn’t know that at the time. Why didn’t she tell me he could dance and sing? He’s even in a band.”_ Will groaned, and Toby couldn’t help but smile sympathetically. “ _So now he’s Eddie in our show.”_

“Eddie.” Toby sat up straight, his smile vanishing. “William. What show are you doing?”

_“Oh, uh… Rocky Horror.”_

The silence went on for a while. He heard Will cough. Toby carefully set his soda can down on the desk.

“You’re doin’ Rocky Horror with your high school Glee club?”

 _“I’m — it’s for Emma,”_ Will protested, then stopped. This time the silence was more tense.

“You’re doing _our show_ with _Emma?”_ Toby was trying his best not to yell, but it wasn’t working very well.

 _“She’s not in it! Toby, you know what kind of an effect that show had on me when we were in college. If there’s anything that can get Emma to let go of some of her anxiety about sex, it’s Rocky Horror.”_ He sounded a little hurt, which fired Toby’s anger further. He ground his teeth. _“Come on, you can’t tell me you never took any of your guys with you to Rocky Horror when I wasn’t around.”_

“No, I don’t think I ever did. I guess _I_ assumed it was clear there were some things that were just for us.” The more he put what he was thinking into words and spoke them out loud, the more unreasonable they sounded, but he was already too pissed to be rational. “What about Half Moon Bay, Will? You gonna take her up to the lake, too?”

 _“No! I wouldn’t…”_ Will sighed loudly. “ _Look, this isn’t what I wanted to happen.”_

“No, but it’s what you got, ain’t it? What exactly _are_ you lookin’ for?”

_“I was just… I want her to trust me, but Carl seems to think I should be… I don’t know, demeaning her or something. Putting handcuffs on her.”_

Toby frowned. “Didn’t Emma tell you she liked that?”

_“Well, yes, but — I don’t know. It doesn’t sound like Emma at all. How am I supposed to treat her that way? And if she doesn’t know what she wants about sex, how does she know about this?”_

“Who says she doesn’t know what she wants about sex?”

_“She’s thirty years old and she still doesn’t want sex from any man? Something is definitely holding her back.”_

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You said Carl’s making her better. You just can’t handle that he can give Emma something that you can’t.”

He heard Will catch his breath, like Toby had hit him in the stomach. His phone buzzed, but Toby ignored it. He bit his lip.

“Will, this conversation ain’t getting us anywhere. I’d better talk to you later.”

He hung up before he could make things worse. Then he threw his phone into his gym bag and headed out the door, leaving his desk covered with papers. There was no way he was getting anything more done tonight.

An hour and a half and one grueling weight-lifting rotation later, Toby finally checked his messages while he dried off his hair. He swore to himself, and immediately hit the button to return the call.

 _“It’s Davis,”_ said the voice on the other end, amid the sounds of dining.

“I’m so sorry,” said Toby, pulling his shirt over his head. “I plumb forgot we were gonna meet tonight. Is it too late to reschedule?”

 _“I went ahead and ate.”_ Davis didn’t sound upset. “ _If it’s not too forward, I can just bring yours over to your house. I’m pretty sure I remember what you ordered last time.”_

“That sounds great,” Toby admitted. “My cupboards are bare at the moment. I’m no good at being single.”

_“Well, I’ll see what I can do to help make it more tolerable.”_

It was more flirty than Toby was used to hearing from Davis. Toby wasn’t sure whether or not they were actually dating; this would be dinner number three, and although nothing had happened between them, the memories from their five-years-ago affair in London lingered. Davis wasn’t easy to forget, and for all that he’d tried to convince Toby they weren’t sexually compatible, it had been sweet between them for those weeks Davis had been at the RAB workshop.

Davis’ car was sitting in Toby’s gravel driveway when he arrived home. He climbed out and gave Toby a styrofoam container, a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks.” Toby indicated the shiny blue Audi. “Don’t think I’ve seen your ride before.”

“It’s not as fancy as Carl’s Corvette,” said Davis, “but I like it.”

Toby led Davis around the porch to the kitchen door, holding it open for him. “Carl?”

“My business partner and ex. I’m sure I’ve told you about him before.”

He paused, setting his gym bag on the kitchen table. “No — I mean, yes, I remember you tellin’ me all about him, but… I didn’t remember his name. Carl. It’s just a coincidence. Will’s friend at school, Emma, her boyfriend’s name is Carl.”

“Oh…” Davis took a step back, letting out a laugh. “Toby. I think we may be talking about the same man. Carl’s girlfriend Emma? Counselor at McKinley High?”

There was a lot of gasping and exclaiming while Toby put on some water for tea and they uncovered more surprising connections between them. The fact that _Emma’s boyfriend Carl_ was the same person as _Davis’ ex-partner Carl_ made Toby laugh so hard, he had to sit down at the dining room table.

“Th-that means,” he sputtered, “that Carl is also _Shelby’s_ ex-husband?”

“Well, technically, they were never married,” said Davis calmly, grinning as he uncorked the wine, “but technically neither were we, and we had a wedding and everything.” He cocked his head and regarded Toby thoughtfully. “I’m guessing you don’t know what Carl does for a living.”

“He’s a dentist,” said Toby. Then he stopped and felt another layer of realization settle over him. “ _Oh._ You told me your ex, he’s a professional Dominatrix. Er, Dominator. Dom-whatever. That’s _Carl?”_

“I bet your Will doesn’t know that,” cautioned Davis. “I think you’re going to need to be careful not to out Carl to him.”

“Oh, no, Will knows something, I know, because he told me what Emma wanted from him. It ain’t anything near vanilla. But —“ Toby bit down on the words he was about to say about what Kurt and his boyfriends did, _had_ done all summer up in his attic. That wasn’t his story to tell, no matter what Davis already knew — and, in any case, it didn’t have anything to do with Carl.

“Well, I’m Carl’s partner in more than one way here.” Davis handed him a glass of wine. “Yes, we were lovers, long ago, but we’ve been business partners for almost as long. We play opposite roles in the same practice.”

“Opposite —“ Toby felt his eyebrows knit as Davis smiled patiently at him, sipping his wine. “Is there a such thing as a professional _submissive_?”

“Oh, yes. We do a lot of work together, too. You’d be surprised how many people come looking for one and end up needing the other.”

“I think I’m gonna have more questions eventually about that,” said Toby, “but right now I feel like I don’t even know where to start.”

Davis ticked off his fingers. “No, I’m not a prostitute. No, I’m not a sex therapist. My own personal practice is irrelevant.” He smirked. “But if _you_ asked, I’d tell you exactly how much I like it and how hard I want it done to be able to get off.”

“Oh, is that right?” Toby felt himself stirring as he sized up Davis’ tall, muscular frame. “You’re doing that on purpose, now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He held up the bottle. “More wine?”

As it happened, Davis ended up steering the conversation back to Toby after that. Toby told him how Will was doing Rocky Horror with the kids, and his and Will’s own history with the show. Davis mostly listened, but when Toby made a comment about Carl playing Eddie, he shook his head.

“But Carl doesn’t do Eddie,” he said. “He plays Frank-N-Furter.”

“He —“ Toby paused. He’d never seen Carl in person, but this declaration radically shifted his mental image of the man. “Like, dressing up?”

“Like shadow cast and choreography and makeup and lines and for _years,_ yes.” He was clearly enjoying Toby’s reaction. “He’s the biggest ham I know. I’ve done Rocky, but mostly I play a Transylvanian.”

“ _You_ do this too?” Toby shook his head, feeling dazed. “I didn’t even know there was an active cast around here anymore.”

“Toby, I’m guessing it wasn’t Rocky Horror you really wanted to talk about.” Davis settled a gentle hand on his arm. “You and Will have some history with that show. But you said he’s doing it for Emma. That’s bothering you?”

“It’s not what Will’s doing,” he said slowly. “It’s that he thinks he can make these decisions about having kids without me.”

“But they wouldn’t be your kids, would they? They might not even be Will’s. They’d be Emma’s and Carl’s.”

Toby opened his mouth to refute this, but he had to stop, letting out a stifled laugh. “I, uh.” He smiled sheepishly at Davis. “I’ve done that for another couple. When I got back from London. It was for our best friend Brad and his partners, when they couldn’t get pregnant on their own.”

Davis’s smile lit up his whole face. “You’ve got little kids, Toby?”

“But they’re not mine,” he protested. “It’s just as you say. They’re Brad and Andi and Laurie’s kids. I’m no more than an uncle. Which is just the way I wanted it to be. I don’t…” He licked his lips. “I don’t think I want kids. Of my own.”

“Oh,” said Davis, in a different voice. “And Will does.”

“… yeah,” said Toby quietly.

Davis considered this. “So you don’t want him to have kids at all, because he’s going to want to have some with _you,_ and you don’t want to tell —“

“Look, don’t be a lawyer with me.” He knocked back the rest of his wine and poured another glass. “ _You’re_ a father. Tell me having kids doesn’t change you.”

“Sure it does,” Davis said. “Only in the best ways. Shelby and I weren’t meant to be, but that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of what came out of that union.” His blue eyes were far too keen. Toby felt uncomfortably exposed. “Why _do_ you think Will’s doing this for Emma?”

“Because… he wants to help. Because Carl asked him. Because he loves her and he wants her to be happy.” Toby held up a hand, forestalling more commentary. “None of that sounds bad. But believe me, if I know anybody, I know Will. He wouldn’t be okay turnin’ over all the control of _his_ kids to Carl and Emma. He’d want some say.”

“Sounds complicated,” said Davis. He looked like he was trying to stifle a smile over his wine glass.

“And then there’s Emma, and what she wants. Will says she wants him in control, which, trust me, Will don’t have a dominant bone in his body. She’s going to be mighty disappointed if she’s hoping he’ll come around and spank her bottom for her.”

Davis wrinkled his brow. “But Emma’s not interested in _that_ kind of dominant.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I should be the one to explain it to you. That’s Carl’s responsibility, or Emma’s.” He shook his head and slid over to sit on the bench next to Toby. “I wasn’t actually planning to come over tonight to analyze your relationship with your fiancé.”

“Oh?” Toby eyed Davis’ muscular thigh through his pants leg, resting very close beside him on the bench. “What exactly _were_ you planning, then?”

“Two things had crossed my mind. One involves dancing.” He gave Toby a slow smile. “The other also involves dancing, sort of.”

“One at a time, then.” Toby put a very deliberate hand on Davis’ knee and rested it there. Davis’ smile widened.

“All right. The first thing is for Carl’s birthday in December. I want to put together a flash mob for him.”

“Ooooooh.” Toby squeezed Davis’ leg in his excitement, and Davis laughed, scooting a little closer. He put an arm around Toby. “I’ve always wanted to choreograph one of those!”

“I was kind of hoping you’d say that,” said Davis. “Would you help me plan it? I can probably find enough dancers, but we need a little direction.”

“Say no more,” Toby declared. “Consider it planned. With your input, of course.” He felt the warmth of Davis’ body, felt himself responding, and leaned into it. “What’s the other thing?”

“Well, this would be thanking you for helping me with the choreography.” He leaned over to put his mouth near Toby’s ear, making Toby shiver. “Your studio.”

“My — what?” It was a little hard to focus on the content of Davis’ words when he was that close to Toby’s neck.

“You said you were hoping to turn your carriage house into a dance studio, but you didn’t think you had the time or the energy to do it on your own.” Davis smiled. “I’d like to help with that. I’m pretty good with my hands.”

Toby giggled. “You’re serious?”

“Acts of service don’t turn me on,” he explained, “but they still feel good.”

“That’s right generous of you, darlin’. I’d welcome your help.” Toby backed up far enough to look Davis in the eye. “So… I have to ask: what’s going on here? Are you seducing me or what? Because I’m getting mixed signals.”

Davis’ smile went a little bashful. “I’m never going to make the first move, Toby.”

“Oh. _Oh!”_  

“I’m hoping you will, though.”

Toby nodded understanding, then cupped a hand around the back of Davis’ head, smiling at him before pulling him into a kiss. “Well, damn, that makes total sense. And you don’t have to ask me twice.”


	32. Rocky Horror Glee Show, Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where Sarah makes her second of three stupid decisions in the course of the Donutverse. The first one was [taking off at the end of Waking Dreams](http://archiveofourown.org/works/253111/chapters/393256). You’ll know the third one when it happens. This decision sets off a whole series of equally stupid decisions, one of which won’t come to fruition for several chapters. At least they’ve got people like Irene and the Coach to look out for them. Just chant the Donutverse mantra and hang in there. 
> 
> Some heavy quoting from the end of 2x05 Rocky Horror Glee Show, because the scene with Emma and Will is completely perfect the way it is. -amy

Kurt ignored the vibrating ring on his phone the first and second time, but by the third he decided to sit up and look at his phone’s screen. It made him frown. “Finn…”

“What is it?” Finn moved in close beside him to look with him.

“It’s Lauren. She left two messages.” Kurt played each voice mail, pressing the Speaker button so Finn could hear them too.

 _“Kurt,”_ she said. _“I got a call from Sarah. She says she’s hitchhiking along I-80 toward Oregon. She has a plan to get Puck out of that Adventure Camp place. Would you let me know if you hear anything from her? I’m her friend, not her Domme, and she’s a brilliant badass kid, but I still don’t like the idea of leaving her out there to deal with the world alone. Catch you later.”_

“Oh, my god.” Finn was on his feet, heading for the door.

“Hang on,” said Kurt, his voice tense. “There’s another one.”

_“Me again. I just talked to Sarah, she’s west of Fort Wayne and she’s fine, but when she asked me to promise not to tell you where she was, I told her I already had, so I don’t think I’ll be getting any more updates. I’m pretty sure she’s heading to that place in Iowa where she stayed this summer, the one with the horses, I won’t say the name of it here but I think you know where I mean. For what it’s worth, I told her she she could just call you directly and that would be more convenient. Who knows, maybe you’ll get a call. I’ll be in touch.”_

“Tessera?” Finn said.

“No doubt,” Kurt murmured. His eyes were a million miles away.

“I’m going to tell Mom and Burt.”

Kurt nodded. His phone was already to his ear, his expression stormy. Finn could hear him leaving a message as he made his way down the hall to the stairs. “Sarah, this is your brother Kurt. As in someone you are supposed to _confide in_ before you leave town. I really thought you knew this by now. If you call me and tell me where you are, I’ll feel a lot better, but you’re still in deep shit with me and Finn. The best chance you have of getting out of this alive is if you call my dad _right now_ and tell him you were wrong. He absolutely loves that. We all love you, Sarah, and we’re _going_ to get Noah back in one piece, but you can’t just…”

At first, when he told her where Sarah was, Finn thought his mother hadn’t heard him. She just stared at him while Burt grabbed the phone and started dialing.

“Hitchhiking?” Burt muttered. “That’s a good way to get yourself killed. What was she _thinking?”_

Finn knew the answer to that. It was the same thing he’d been thinking for days: _I have to do something._ But the wild look in his mom’s eyes made him keep his thoughts to himself.

“Kurt’s leaving her a message,” he said.

“Good. Okay.” Burt rubbed a hand over his forehead as he reached for his mom’s hand. She took it, still looking shellshocked, while Finn remained in the doorway, feeling uncertain.

“I’ll — go check in with Kurt,” he said. Neither of them responded.

Kurt got up when Finn returned to his room. “She hasn’t called back yet.” He looked just as worried as Finn felt. Finn immediately moved to stand beside him, wrapping his arms around him.

“I’m not sure if this is going to help much,” he said.

“No, no, it’s good. I know she’s smart, and she’s always taken care of herself? But I just can’t stop thinking about her out there, alone on the interstate, and — she’s not even _twelve._ ” Tears overwhelmed his words. Finn squeezed him harder.

 _Everybody’s leaving,_ Finn wanted to whine, but he knew that _really_ wouldn’t help anything.

“Okay,” he said at last, and took a deep breath. “I think we need to call — everybody. Everybody who knows something about Sarah and Puck and what’s going on, so we can figure something out, together. Can you call Lauren and ask her to come over? I’m going to call Holly. She’s been talking to Sarah. And Frances, we need to talk to her.”

“And Jake,” said Kurt, nodding. “And Jake’s mother. That’s where she was supposed to be going tonight, right? Visiting them in Mansfield.”

It turned out his mom had already called Jake’s mother. They were on the phone when Kurt and Finn came downstairs to tell them about Finn’s idea.

“Circle the wagons,” said his mom. She was standing now, pacing back and forth across the kitchen. “Yes. That’s what we did last time when Sarah took off, right?” She cast an appeal at Burt. “Except now she’s in another _state.”_

“Tanisha’s at the police station already, and she says she can put out an alert for her,” Burt said, holding the phone away from his mouth. “And they can track Sarah’s phone as long as it’s on.”

Lauren arrived quickly enough that Finn was surprised when he answered the doorbell and found her standing on the porch.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” she said.

“Well, yeah, of course. You’re her friend. She doesn’t have too many people like that.”

Frances seemed to be even more anxious about Sarah’s disappearance than Kurt. “ _She didn’t tell me anything other than that she was on her way to find her brother,”_ she told Finn, “ _but if she calls I’ll call you right back. Do you think she’s okay?”_

“Yeah, of course,” he said, trying to sound reassuring for her sake. He stood there, listening to her crying on the phone, and wondering what he should do. “Do you want to come over?”

 _“Um… no. No thank you,”_ she amended immediately. _“I don’t want to be in the way. Can you please call me if you learn anything?”_

Lauren’s presence in the living room with Kurt and his mom and Burt was strangely calming. He didn’t really think about why that might be until he realized Burt and his mom were arguing about plane tickets.

“We can’t just take off,” Burt argued. “Not before we have any answers.”

“But we know where she’s going,” said his mom. She was still pacing. “We have that money saved for… that money. If we get tickets right now, we can be in Oregon by tomorrow, before she gets there.”

“Carole, be reasonable. She could be going anywhere.” Burt looked kind of helpless and uncertain himself, and when his mom glared at him, he shrank back a little.

“I don’t want to wait and find out too late that Sarah was in some kind of trouble and we could have stopped it!”

“Mom!” Finn tightened his grip on the couch cushions. She gave him a swift, distracted frown. He could feel the way she was watching him, as if she was daring him to overstep. It felt incredibly familiar.

“She said Tessera was on the way,” Lauren said. “She and Lydia drove there this summer, so she should know how to get there.”

“Yes.” Carole nodded, looking hopeful for the first time. “We should go there first. It’s only a seven hour drive.”

“And maybe it would make sense to have somebody stay here while you’re gone,” Lauren went on, speaking calmly. “Not like Finn and Kurt aren’t old enough to stay alone, but… to make sure they have an adult on hand, just in case. Someone you trust.”

There was a long enough silence that Lauren’s penciled brows went up.

“Somebody like _Irene,_ maybe?” she said, obviously giving up on subtlety.

Carole stared at her like she didn’t quite understand how the word _Irene_ could be coming out of Lauren’s mouth. Then she made a little “oh” noise, and looked quickly at Burt. He was nodding thoughtfully.

“That could work,” he said. “You really think she could get away from work?”

Finn watched with dawning understanding as his mom’s face flooded with relief. What he’d seen just then, that had been his mom, losing her shit. It was such an unusual occurrence that Finn hadn’t even realized what was going on. _But Lauren had._

He took a moment later, after his mom had called Irene, to take Lauren aside.

“That was interesting. The way you handled my mom.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she said. “She figured it out herself once she had a second to breathe.”

“Whatever. It was your idea.” He tilted his head. “Does Irene talk about my mom?”

Lauren’s lip twisted. “Don’t think that’s any of your business, hot stuff.”

Finn was pretty sure that meant _yes,_ but he wasn’t going to push it, because she was right; it wasn’t his business. But he was relieved just the same when his mom reported back that Irene had said yes, and that she would come to the house first thing in the morning.

While Carole called Tess, Kurt spent most of the rest of the evening fussing over Burt’s diet, which Finn recognized as Kurt needing to be in charge of something. Burt didn’t object, and on some level Finn guessed Burt realized this was what Kurt needed to maintain his own equilibrium in the face of crisis.

When Holly called to conference-call with his mom and Burt, Lauren headed for the door.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” she told Kurt, and accepted his hug with a grave expression. “You know I’m on Sarah’s side about most stuff, but this was a stupid move, and I think she probably knows it was. I’m guessing _cry for help_ more than _begging for a spanking,_ but… it’s a close call.”

“She’s just a kid,” Finn protested. “Nobody’s going to spank her.”

Lauren looked amused. “You really think Sarah’s just a kid? Come on, you were around for most of the stuff she went through when she was younger. The things she’s seen, she never really had a childhood.”

“All the more reason she gets to have one now,” said Kurt stubbornly. “Even if that means she’s regressing. My dad didn’t spank me when _I_ was a kid, and I’m not about to do that to my sister.”

“Did I ask you to?” Lauren was already on her way down the porch steps to her truck. “I’ll be in touch.”

Kurt shivered, rubbing his arms unhappily as he watched her go. “I hope Sarah find a place to stay tonight.”

“Like Lauren said, she’s resourceful. You can call her again before bed.”

Finn folded Kurt into his arms, but he was pretty clear the contact wasn’t helping. That didn’t feel good at all. If _Sarah_ felt like she had to be the one to lead the charge to recover her brother, Finn knew that meant he wasn’t doing nearly enough.

“I want to do more,” he said. Kurt shifted in his arms and sighed.

“You’re doing everything you can.”

“That’s not true,” Finn insisted. “I’ve just been holding back because I didn’t know _what_ to do. I should know by now that that’s never a good decision for me.”

Kurt looked up at him with one eye. “What do you think you should be doing instead?”

His solution was too nebulous for him to share it with Kurt yet, but watching his mom hurry to pack her suitcase made his goal more clear. _Sarah’s not going to be able to get to him — but I could. He’s my responsibility. I have to go after Puck myself._

* * *

When Irene pulled up in the driveway at eight-thirty, Carole made a concerted effort to remain where she was and focus on digging out every last root of straggling weeds out of the side bed. Irene could take her time. It wasn’t Irene’s fault that Carole had so much trouble keeping her attention on — well, anything — when she was around.

“Isn’t it a little late in the season to be doing that?”

Carole nodded and squinted up at Irene, standing in silhouette in the path of the morning sun. “It’s been warm this week. I think I can get another few weeks out of these mums before they’re done blooming for the year.”

She crouched down beside Carole, and reached out with careful fingers to caress one of the orange blossoms. “You’ve always had a knack for making flowers do what you wanted them to do.”

Carole could have brought up Irene’s meticulously sculpted bonsai collection, but she just nodded. “Well, maybe I’m a little sentimental, but Blaine planted most of these. Finn and Sarah did the landscaping, but almost all of the rest was Blaine. We couldn’t keep him out of the dirt this summer. He put in all those marigolds along the west side.” She paused, smiling to herself. “I miss that kid.”

“I miss him, too. I see him most weekends, still, but… it’s not entirely him. We only get pieces of what’s left.”

The words made Carole shiver, even though the October morning was warm. “I wish there was something we could do for him.”

Irene sat back onto the grass. “You’re taking care of a whole hell of a lot of people already.”

“Finn tends to collect them,” she said, and Irene let out a quiet laugh. “Puck… he’s been part of our family for a long time. And of course we’re not going to let Sarah run off like this.”

“You’re going after her without knowing where she’s headed?” The lines in her forehead deepened. “Sounds like a wild goose chase.”

“Tessera is close enough that it won’t be a wasted drive, even if she’s not there when we arrive. Tess sounded more than a little upset on the phone. I don’t think either of the boys had told her about what was happening with Puck.” She couldn’t quite make eye contact with Irene, so she looked up at the house instead. “Tess has been especially protective of the two of them. Although she said in no uncertain terms, if Sarah showed up at Tessera after running away from home, that she _would_ be disciplined for her thoughtless actions.”

“Mmm.” Irene’s voice was calm. “That bothers you?”

“I think it will bother Burt more.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, thank you for coming. I told both boys they had to go to school. Kurt has been wanting to meet you for so long, but they’re working on this play… you might not see him at all. And Finn really can’t miss any more days, not after he had summer school. But I’m glad you’re here, in case of an emergency. I changed the sheets on our bed for you, and there are clean towels on the counter.”

“Mmm,” she said again. “ _That_ wouldn’t bother you?”

“What?”

“Me, sleeping in your bed?”

Carole twisted her gardening gloves in both hands. “No, of course not. Why — why would it?”

Irene’s lips curved up at the corners. “Because you want to be — what did you call it? _An authority on your surroundings._ You like things to be orderly. Predictable.”

Carole wrinkled her nose. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh, really? I’m guessing you still sleep on the right side of the bed every night.”

“That’s—“ she protested, then she stopped, feeling the heat creep up her neck. She picked up a discarded marigold and rolled it gently between her fingers. “Not important,” she finished.

Irene nodded calmly. “All right. I suppose the more important question is, does Burt mind me staying here?”

“No, no, he’s… he wanted you to come. He just had to go into the garage for a little bit before we took off.” She stood up, brushing the dirt off her knees, and waited while Irene got to her feet. “Let me show you where everything is.”

Irene listened politely while Carole spoke too quickly and said too many words about things she’d already written down. The more time passed, the more it escalated. She knew she was babbling, but knowing didn’t help. The ordinary tricks she’d learned to calm herself down — _from Irene,_ she reminded herself in frustration — didn’t seem to be working.

Eventually, Irene reached out and grasped Carole’s hand, the one that still held the marigold. Carole took a breath, blinking.

“Carole,” she said. “Do you want help?”

It was like her body was set on too high a speed, but Carole didn’t want to open her mouth again to explain this to Irene. She nodded.

“Would you look at me, please?”

The moment she focused on Irene’s soft brown eyes, she started to cry. Irene let her do that, but she didn’t let go of her hand.

“You’re doing everything you can,” she said. Her voice was very kind and even. “The more calm you are, the better you can help Sarah and the rest of your family.”

“I _know.”_

Irene nodded, still watching her. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“I know,” she said again. “I’ve been telling myself that for seventeen years.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need to hear it from someone else sometimes.”

Carole nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I won’t let my fears win. I promise.”

Irene smiled at her. The kind of nervous feeling that smile provoked was completely unlike the one she’d had since last night. _That_ feeling had kept her awake, questioning herself, by turns certain she’d failed Sarah, failed everyone, and angry they hadn’t done something sooner. _This_ feeling made her eyes close and her stomach muscles loosen, so that she could take a complete breath. She did that now, as Irene inhaled with her. When they let it out together, Carole felt almost like herself again.

She let go of her hand and inspected the marigold, which was still mostly intact.

“A little sentimental,” murmured Irene. Carole blushed, looking at the ground.

“It’s still good advice, no matter how many times you told me that.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t had anything to eat today.”

She sighed. “You know me so well.”

“Lucky guess.” She took Carole’s arm and walked her into the kitchen. “How about you make yourself some breakfast before you and Burt get on the road.”

* * *

Finn looked up quickly when he heard a rap on the glass window of the principal’s office. He gave Coach Beiste a weak little wave. She lowered her eyebrows, then opened the door and came inside.

“What’s going on, Finn?” she asked.

He sent a pained look at Mr. Schue and Principal Figgins arguing in his office. “Uh, I think I just got a month’s suspension.”

Her eyebrows went way up. “Oh really. Explain this to me.”

“I, um, might have walked down the hall in my Rocky Horror costume? Which is to say my underwear.” He hoped his sigh of frustration sounded realistic. “I can’t believe this.”

“And why the heck would you do a dumb thing like that?”

He shrugged. “I was trying to get up the confidence to show up in front of the school, practically naked.”

She crossed her arms across her broad chest. “Is that right? Why do I have a hard time believing that?”

“What do you mean?”

She lowered her voice a little, but it still sounded far too loud to Finn. “I mean you sat with me in the back room of Tib’s coffeehouse and told me all _kinds_ of things you done—“

“Shhh,” he hissed.

“—Trust me, I ain’t going to get you in more trouble than you already are. I’m just saying, whatever your motivation is, it ain’t because you’re self-conscious.”

The way she stared at him felt very familiar. He found himself withering a little. “Don’t tell Mr. Schue,” he pleaded. “I—I need to get out of school.”

“ _Why._ And no more lies.”

“It’s Puck.” There was no one else in the waiting room, but he whispered it anyway, feeling his gut contract as he had to say the words. “He’s not in juvie. His dad sent him to a gay conversion camp in Oregon.”

He watched the Coach’s lip curl. For a moment, Finn thought she might punch him. Then she let out an exasperated sigh.

“I swear, they should make people take a test before they let them be parents.” She shook her head. “And you and Kurt, you’ve been dealing with this for—what? Weeks? Who knows about this?”

“Our parents. The police. Puck’s eleven-year-old sister took off last night, hitchhiking, to get out there and break him out, I guess, but she’s not going to make it very far. My mom and Kurt’s dad went after _her_ this morning. Which leaves me to fix this. I can’t skip any more class.” He tried to straighten up and look at her like an equal, but it wasn’t easy. “But if I got suspended, I could—“

“You could what?” she said. Her voice was gentle now. “Leave Kurt by himself to deal with it alone?”

“I’m not exactly helping by waiting around here!”

Mr. Schue came out of the office, his face grim. He focused on Finn. “Okay. I talked Principal Figgins out of a suspension. He’s letting you off with a warning.”

“But—“ Finn said. Mr. Schue shook his head, cutting him off.

“I know, it’s ridiculous, but I think this is as good as it’s going to get. Back to class, okay? And no more walking through the hall in your costume.”

Finn watched him leave with a sense of futility.

“Jeez, it’s a good thing you’ve got so many people looking out for you,” said the Coach. “Your life is more complicated than a six-story chicken hatchery.” She rested a heavy hand on his back. “Well, Schuester might be a permissive bleeding-heart liberal, but I sure as hell ain’t. _You_ can look forward to a call from the dentist.”

He felt a jarring impact to his gut, not unlike being hit with a slushie, and rose immediately to his feet. “What?” he blurted. “Coach, you can’t tell—“

“Whine all you want, Hudson. Maybe I can’t give you what you need, but I’d bet a peck of prize-winning apples that _he_ can.” She gave him a decisive nod. “Now get to class. And you’d better not pull anything like this again, or I’ll toss you off the football team so fast, you’ll get whiplash. Understood?”

He closed his eyes. The unfortunate consequences of his actions were already playing themselves out in his mind, like a movie he was powerless to stop. “Yeah.”

“Come again?” she said sharply.

His eyes flew open. “Yes ma’am.”

She glared at him, her mouth tight with anger. He was sure it wasn’t for him — not most of it, anyway — but it was hard not to flinch. “Yeah, that was definitely inadequate. You’d better straighten yourself out pretty quick if you’re hoping to be at _all_ ready to help anybody. I have the feeling this business with Puck ain’t gonna be pretty.”

Finn could barely focus on where he was walking as he stumbled out of the office and into the students passing through the hallway. As he rounded the corner, he almost ran into Dave and Azimio speaking in hushed tones.

“Well, what do you know,” Azimio jeered, looking Finn up and down. “He learned how to dress himself after all. I swear, there’s some things you can’t unsee.”

“What the hell, Hudson,” said Dave. He gave him an incredulous look. “In your fucking underwear? What, were you _trying_ to get kicked out of school?”

“It was my Rocky Horror costume. And no, I didn’t get suspended.” He glared right back at Dave. “Can I go to class now?”

Wonder of wonders, they parted to let him pass between them. Two minutes later, he received a text from Dave.

_Anything from Sarah?_

_Nothing, but they think they know where she’s heading. Our folks headed out to intercept her this morning._

_So that stunt with the underwear, that was on purpose._

He glanced around, like somebody might be spying on him admitting to that. _I don’t know what you’re talking about._

_If you need to go to Oregon, I can keep an eye on Kurt._

The words caught him off guard. He had to stop in the bathroom and blow his nose before continuing on his way to class. By now, the hallway was empty. He wasn’t about to say _the Coach told me I couldn’t go_ to Dave. But when he looked at his phone, there was another message.

_You’re not as dumb as you pretend to be._

It wasn’t like he could say the same to Dave, because everybody on the football team knew Dave was ridiculous-smart. _You’re not as much of an asshole as you pretend to be,_ he replied.

_I’m working on it. It’s fucking exhausting._

_Yeah, well, go ahead and use the attic if you need a place to hide out._

_Thanks._

He considered skipping the rest of American government, but he was pretty sure that was the exact opposite of what Carl had told him to do. _Focus,_ he told himself sternly, trying for Carl’s voice in his head. _Make it count, for everybody._

* * *

Sarah was seven before she discovered not every kid had an emergency running-away bag. She kept hers hidden under her bed, ready to grab whenever she might need it. When she moved in with Burt and Carole, she considered putting it in her closet, but that felt weird, so she moved it back to its spot under her bed. There was no question in her mind that she would need it someday.

When it became apparent that _someday_ was right now, she exchanged her regular school backpack for the bigger, fuller running-away bag. The only person who noticed was Marley Rose, which made sense, seeing as how most of the eighth grade class was wrapped up in their own problems and ignored her, a smaller shadow in the front of the room. She liked it that way.

“New backpack?” Marley asked at lunch.

“Old backpack,” she said, scraping the last of the hummus out of its plastic container.

“You didn’t lose yours?” The look Marley gave her wasn’t judgmental. She simply knew Sarah well enough by now to know she didn’t miss much.

Sarah considered her response for an extra half-second before choosing the lie. “I’m staying over at my half-brother’s house tonight.”

Lying was an ordinary tool in her survival kit, but there was something particularly disturbing about lying to Marley. Two months ago she would have said it was because Marley was an ordinary gullible girl, and probably deserved to be lied to by smarter girls. Now she knew better. Marley had her own secrets to keep, her own survival tools. She was good at hiding in plain sight, too, even if she did it differently than Sarah did.

She resolved this issue by stopping in the computer lab after lunch and logging into Holly’s discussion board.

_Online: Katie._

_Login 2010-10-27 13:13:02: Sarah. Mood: determined._

_K: Hey, girl. You’re here early._

_S: Yeah, I’m going to be on the road after school and wanted to check in now. And I guess I want to apologize to Mar for telling them a lie._

_K: Way to go, following rule #2._

_S: Yeah, I guess honest is outweighing positive today. Also apologizing to Jake in advance for making him and his mom wait for me at the bus stop after school today, because I’m not going to be there._

_K: This sounds like a road trip. You heading where I think you’re heading?_

_S: Probably. Oregon’s kind of a long way, but I think I can make it in three days if I hit the truckers on the right schedule. They don’t report underage hitchhikers if we have good stories to tell._

_K: You be safe, girl. I don’t like this._

_S: I’m going to tell everybody what’s going on, I promise. Just don’t spill the beans before I get there. I’m breaking Noah out of that fucking place._

_K: You do realize this is going to waste all the trust capital you’ve built up with your foster parents, right?_

Sarah hesitated before typing, _My phone number’s (419) 229-0199. Don’t freak out. I know what I’m doing._

After school, she took the ACRTA to the Greyhound station, but instead of getting a ticket to Mansfield where Tanisha and Jake would be waiting, she bought one to Gary, Indiana. It blew half of her savings, but it would speed up the initial leg of her trip, and she was sure she could find a trucker to take her from there. In this kind of situation, she’d discovered being small and cute was more of an advantage than a liability. If she got into trouble, she had Noah’s small switchblade in her left sock and mace in her pocket, along with the Emergency Alert app Carole had made her download to her phone.

Thinking about Carole made her feel a little guilty, but on the scale of importance in her life, Noah would always be #1, with everybody else a distant second. It provided enough impetus, however, to make her call the person in her life least likely to turn her in and leave a message.

“Hey, Lauren, it’s Sarah again,” she said. “I came up with my own plan for getting Noah out of fucking Adventure Camp, but I kind of have to be there to make it work? So I’m hitching west from Chicago tonight, hoping to make it a third of the way to Oregon before daylight, though I might end up in Iowa tonight if I can’t. I promise, I won’t do anything stupid. Don’t tell anybody I called. I’m keeping my phone off to conserve battery.”

Lauren would know it might also prevent some of the less resourceful agencies from tracking her, so she didn’t need to bring it up. She dug a handful of bills out from the bottom of her backpack and walked into the truck stop. It didn’t take her long to find a weathered-looking woman sitting alone at the counter with her coffee. Sarah took the stool beside her.

“Can I get some scrambled eggs and a piece of toast, please?” Sarah asked the waitress.

The woman beside her eyed her with mild curiosity, but said nothing until Sarah gave her a conspiratorial smirk and added under her breath, “Let’s see how badly they mess up eggs and toast.”

She grinned back. “Safer than the mac and cheese. They always overcook it.”

“My brother spoiled me for anybody else’s mac and cheese since before I was old enough to cook it myself,” Sarah said.

“Yeah? How long ago was that?”

“Maybe five, six years?” She shrugged, accepting the plate of eggs the waitress brought her and counting out bills to cover it, plus a reasonable tip. “Long enough.”

Now she had the woman’s attention. “I take it you’re not here with your brother today.”

“My brother’s in trouble. I’m heading to Oregon to help get him out of it.”

“Oregon, huh? That’s a good two thousand miles from here.”

“I know.” She regarded the woman steadily, without blinking. “I don’t suppose you’re driving that way. Unless your company prohibits you from taking passengers.”

“I’m an independent, missy. Ain’t nobody prohibiting me from doing nothing, except my own conscience.”

Sarah had guessed that from the lack of logos on the rig outside or on the woman’s well-worn jacket. She simply waited until the woman reached into her own pocket and took out a wallet, dropping a five and three ones on the counter.

“I’m heading to Moline, but I can take you that far. You don’t look like you take up too much space.” She held out a thick hand for Sarah to shake. “Vaughn.”

“I’m Sarah,” she said, shaking it firmly. “Thank you.”

Vaughn didn’t ask any more questions until they’d made it through the worst of the construction traffic and were well outside the city limits. “So where do your folks think you are?”

“My dad’s the one who got my brother in trouble,” she said. “I’ve got kind-of foster parents who think I’m visiting my half brother in Mansfield. There are some other people who know where I’m going.” She added the last part just so Vaughn wouldn’t think she was completely insane.

“He out with the law or some such?”

“Not this time.” She closed her mouth and looked out the window, hoping Vaughn would take the hint. In the universe of people Sarah expected to be sympathetic to her brother over her dad, truck drivers probably wouldn’t be high on the list.

She turned on her phone once to check the messages. There was one from Lauren, and a frantic one from Kurt and a similar one from Carole, and a very matter-of-fact one from Holly supplying names and contact info for youth hostels along I-80.

“Well, kid,” Vaughn said eventually, “there’s a stop coming up in ten miles. They have a pretty good menu, but they aren’t going to let you stay the night. Where do you want me to drop you?”

Sarah considered the frosty darkness outside the cab. “How close can you get me to Burlington?”

“Can drop you right there, if you tell me an address.”

She shook her head. “It’s still a ways on from there, so I’ll have to hike, no matter what. But I have good shoes and a compass.”

Vaughn gave her a sour look. “I ain’t telling anybody where you’re headed. You might as well save yourself the walk.”

Sarah was able to give her a set of GPS coordinates reasonably close to Tessera without being obvious about it, and if Vaughn guessed where she was actually planning to spend the night, she didn’t let on. She did scribble down her phone number on a piece of notebook paper and pass it to Sarah.

“Just let me know you got home okay,” she said as Sarah climbed down from the cab. “Whenever you make it back there.”

“I will,” said Sarah.

“Hey, kid.” Sarah looked up at Vaughn’s lined face. “Having a place to land, it’s easy to take that for granted. You shouldn’t squander it.”

Just as Katie had pointed out, it was likely that had already happened, but Sarah nodded and shook her hand, promising again she’d call. Then she watched as Vaughn’s rig backed up, turned right, and disappeared into the darkness, leaving her alone on the side of the road.

It wasn’t quite cold enough to make the wet ground slippery, but Sarah could feel the chill through her jeans. She sighed, thrusting her stocking cap onto her head, and nested her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

“You’re such a fucking pain the ass, Noah,” she grumbled, although she didn’t mean it, even a little bit.

There was no way she’d make it up to the main building of the Tessera complex without alerting Philip and every security guard in the place to her presence. Instead, she headed for the perimeter by the barn. It was generally secure, but there were spots she had discovered were small enough for a kid-sized silent fox to squeeze through.Everyone would be inside and asleep by now, even the stablehands. She wouldn’t be noticed, not if she woke up and was on her way before dawn.

It was a lot warmer in the barn. She felt a pang when she realized barely anything had changed since she and Noah had been there that summer.The horses remained quiet until she got close enough for them to recognize her, at which point they started to stamp and whicker, but she knew the tricks now to calm them down. To be honest, they weren’t all that different from the tricks Kurt and Finn used on her brother.

“Hey, Cinnamon-lady,” she murmured, holding out a hand for the horse to smell, then resting it on her neck. “Hey, girl. You miss me? I sure missed you.”

She lifted a spare tack blanket down from the wall and spread it over the straw beside the horse’s stall, then took a second one and wrapped herself up in it. Within minutes, she was asleep, soothed by the smells and sounds of the animals.

A tug on her shoe brought her all the way awake before she was aware of what was happening. Sarah found herself blinking through tangled hair at Lydia’s grim face.

“I was going to be out of here before dawn,” she whispered, but Lydia shook her head, thumbing out a furious text. She tossed the phone onto the mound of straw beside them.

“Dawn’s come and gone. Your folks are on their way. Just sit tight and — no, you are not going anywhere. _Anywhere.”_ Sarah shrank back at the anger in her voice. “Ask me what comes from permissive parenting? This. This is what happens. You think you’re in charge? That you can make decisions without asking your dad?”

“Noah—“ she began, but Lydia cut her off again.

“Noah _nothing._ You’re not the only person in this family who matters, Sarah.” She made a stabbing motion with her finger out the door toward the main building. “You can’t take advantage of people who love you like this.”

“Nobody was doing anything!” To her horror, she was starting to cry, but Lydia seemed to be ignoring that.

“If we’d known about Noah’s situation Tess could have put things in motion a week ago. Local police have been mobilized to investigate the camp. If Noah’s still there, they’ll have him out in twenty-four hours.” She squatted down close, almost nose to nose. “In the meantime, you’ve managed to cause more trouble and heartache than he has.”

When Sarah tried to scramble away, Lydia held her in one place, keeping her voice quiet and calm until Sarah gave up the effort to run and just sat there, crying silently in Lydia’s arms.

“There are consequences to not being alone in the world,” she said in Sarah’s ear. “One of them is having to answer to others. You’re not a superhero. No, no more words. The only thing I want to hear from you is _I promise I will never do that again._ In fact…” With one wrench of her arms, she lifted Sarah up and over her lap. “Let me do this properly.”

* * *

Dave wasn’t sure if he expected Santana to actually show up to his SAT study group or not, but when he arrived that week, she was the first one there, her fluffy red Magenta wig sticking out of her play rehearsal bag. She even had a pencil and a notebook and was wearing a sardonic smile.

“Okay, Karofsky,” she said, tapping the notebook. “Let’s do this.”

“After,” he hissed. “I have a job to do first.”

“ _This_ is our job.” She held up the notebook and showed him what was written on the cover: _Project Jailbreak._ “This is the only job that matters. You’re going to ace your SATs, everybody knows it. And screw the rest of these losers.”

“Nice sense of civic responsibility, Lopez.” He began to write the agenda on the white board. “Some people actually care about their grades.”

“You mean like _Blaine?”_ She sneered at him when his marker skittered across the surface of the board at the mention of his name. “He only cares because his father told him to care. He doesn’t know how to think for himself.”

“That’s not true,” Dave protested. Then he closed his mouth as Jordan Stern came in, carrying her backpack. She turned her body carefully to look between Dave and Santana in confusion.

“Uh, are you in this study group?” she asked Santana.

“I am now.” Santana patted the seat beside her. Jordan settled into it, snickering when she saw Santana’s notebook.

“Jailbreak, huh? I guess school’s kind of like jail, and good scores on your SATs are kind of like the key?”

“Possibly. Although _some_ people might argue that friends are more important than grades.” She gave Dave a pointed look. He quickly turned away and erased the erratic marks on the white board.

He managed to stay focused enough to lead the study session. After everyone but Santana had left, he sat down in the spot Jordan had vacated, looking warily at her notebook. “Did you even take any notes?”

“Did you even hear what I was saying earlier?” she taunted. Then she opened her notebook to the second page. “Okay. First point of business is—“

“Finn,” Dave said. Santana paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “Um. Did you see what Finn did, the stunt he pulled with his underwear?”

“Yeah.” The eyebrow descended. “What do _you_ think that was about?”

“He was trying to get thrown out of school so he’d have a legitimate way to skip class. So he could go after, you know. After Puck.” He sighed. “Because they’re, you know. A thing.”

“A thing,” she said distastefully. “Yeah. Okay, maybe that was a valid strategy.”

“So Kurt’s freaking out about, um. About Blaine.” Saying his name out loud felt like the hardest thing he’d done all day, but Santana nodded. She was looking less certain now. “Blaine’s not allowed to see Finn or Puck, but his dad doesn’t know about Kurt. Kurt’s the only one who can fix this.”

“Or _you,”_ she said. “Don’t you think Blaine would listen to _you?”_

“I—I can’t. Really, he wouldn’t.” _I’m not important to him,_ he thought, but saying those words in front of Santana would just make him start crying. “Anyway. Kurt’s going to go to see him, like you did.”

“Yeah. His roommate’s aware of what’s going on, anyway. That’s something.” She rested her chin on her hand. “But Blaine barely acknowledged Kurt was even in RENT with him this summer. I think he’s making up this whole story in his head about what’s true. Believe me, I’ve seen him do it before.”

“Yeah. I guess I have, too.” Dave thought about all the stories they’d read at the public library when they were kids, all the fantasy realms they’d escaped into together. The idea that Blaine might actually be lost in one of them made his insides knot. “Well… if Kurt goes to see him, and Blaine really doesn’t acknowledge him, I think we’re going to have to work on another angle. Put pressure on his dad somehow.”

“I’m already on that,” Santana said smugly. “I’m doing some digging on Mr. Anderson. Believe me, if anybody can uncover dirt, it’s me. I’m very resourceful.”

“No doubt.” Dave shook his head, grinning. “I’m glad I’m not on your bad side at the moment.”

She stuck her pencil at Dave. “Don’t think you’re getting away that easy. You’re still in the doghouse for all that shit you did to Kurt.”

Dave bowed his head. “Kurt deserves to be happy. He misses Blaine, and Puck, and—and everybody. I’m going to do everything I can to fix it.”

“Fucking right you are,” she muttered, but when he looked up again, her face was soft. “Okay. So what’s this have to do with Finn getting thrown out of school? You want to get Kurt suspended so he can go to see Blaine? I don’t think he’d go for that.”

“No. Not Kurt. Somebody needs to do something that would make it obvious Kurt shouldn’t be at McKinley. They need to give him a reason to switch schools and go to Dalton, where he can help from the inside.” He took a deep breath. “Somebody needs to get in trouble. _Real_ trouble. It might as well be me.”

“You—?” She stared at him. “Look, you’ve already done a hell of a lot to him. What could you do that would be _worse?”_

“I’m not going to hurt him again,” he said quickly. “But I could threaten him. Really, make it bad enough that they can’t ignore it anymore.”

“Dave, you’d get expelled.” Her tone was flat.

“Maybe. But I think that’s what it’s going to take.”

She shook her head in confusion. “You’d do that for Kurt?”

“And Blaine,” he said softly. “And Puck and Finn. I saw them together this summer, okay? He was _happy._ ”

“Okay, okay.” She put her hands out. “We don’t even know if this is going to be necessary. Maybe Kurt sees Blaine and he’s all, _who are you, I don’t even care about you anymore.”_

“Maybe. Then we’ll figure out something else.”

He stood up when Santana did, but when she hugged him, he wasn’t sure what to do other than hug her back.

“You’re totally fucking weird, Karofsky,” she whispered into his ear.

“I know,” he said unhappily. “Sorry.”

“No, I kind of like weirdos. Why else would I be hanging out with Britt?” She grinned, but he couldn’t make himself grin back. “Okay. First meeting of Project Jailbreak is officially concluded.”

* * *

Will was the only one left in the auditorium when Emma arrived after rehearsal. She edged her way into the row where he sat, regarding the set with a sober expression, and rested her hand on his wrist.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “You sounded worried in your message.”

“I have to cancel Rocky Horror.”

“What? Why? Because of what Carl said today about stealing his girl?” She shook her head. “We both know that’s not what this is about.”

“Well, that’s the thing. It kind of is.” Will’s mouth twisted into something like a smile. “I made a lot of mistakes in the last couple weeks, Emma. The biggest one was trying to pretend I knew what to do to help you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. This play… I never should have tried to put it on in the first place. The reality is I only did all this to get close to you.” He let his head hang down in defeat. “Rocky Horror was the big breakthrough for me and Toby back in college. I thought, if it helped me figure out my own sexuality, way back then, maybe it would help you figure out yours. Pretty presumptuous of me, huh?”

“Well.” She hesitated, then kissed his cheek. “Of all the people in the world who might be able to help me figure that out, Will, I think you might be it.”

“But you don’t want to have sex with me,” he said, sounding mournful. She smiled.

“I don’t want to have sex with _anybody._ You’d think a counselor would already know something about this, but I hadn’t even heard the word _asexual_ before Carl gave me an article about it.”

He nodded, looking confused. “So you think that’s what you are? Asexual?”

“I don’t know for sure, but the definition I read seems to fit how I feel about having sex. And I’ve spoken with some other people who identify that way, and many of them have had a lot of the same experiences I’ve had.”

Will sighed, resting his chin on his hand. “I think I’ve been trying to pressure you into doing something you’re not ready for, because I was sure I could fix what I was perceiving as a problem. But you’re telling me… you don’t think it’s a problem?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Not wanting sex doesn’t mean I don’t want intimacy, or that something else isn’t going on that’s making it hard for me to connect with people. All I know is that it’s not as simple for me as it seems to be for everyone else.”

“No, I get it. It wasn’t simple for me either. It never was.” He made a face. “I told Toby _no_ a whole bunch of times before I told him _yes._ Not to mention telling him a lot of other things that were pretty cruel and thoughtless.”

“I guess love can make you do some crazy things,” Emma said softly.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he said. He took both her hands, facing her earnestly. “I promise to never abuse our feelings for each other ever again. Let’s face it: Carl is actually making you better. And if I really love you, I need to back off and accept the fact that what you need isn’t necessarily going to look like the way I think a relationship should look.”

“Thank you.” She nodded at the set. “So… what are you going to tell the kids?”

“Well, first of all, I’m going to apologize for putting them through this, particularly Finn and Kurt. Even if nobody else recognizes it, they’re dealing with some really hard stuff right now.” His face shifted into the determined one she admired so much. “I need them to understand that Rocky Horror isn’t about pushing boundaries or making an audience accept a certain rebellious point of view. When I was younger and they started midnight shows of Rocky Horror, it wasn’t for envelope-pushers. It was for outcasts: people on the fringes who had no place left to go, but were searching for someplace, any place where they felt like they belonged.” He smiled ruefully. “Sound familiar?”

“I could have used something like that then,” she agreed. “Even if I was trying desperately to conform, that wasn’t really who I was. It’s taken me a long time to figure that out.”

Will nodded. “The truth is, with that perspective, Rocky Horror is the perfect show for this club. So we’re still going to perform Rocky Horror; we’re just not doing it for an audience. We’ll do it for ourselves, with Carl and all the kids. I’ll ask Mike if he wants to be the criminologist.” He shook his head. “They all have _so_ much talent. I’ve been afraid to risk putting on a show, a real show, but doing this with them has shown me just how ready they are. I mean, even in the middle of a family crisis, Kurt’s been right there for every rehearsal.”

“So do one,” she said. “Do a real musical with Glee club.”

“I was thinking maybe _South Pacific,”_ he said. His enthusiasm grew with her smile. “Just with Glee and recorded accompaniment, but it’d be a start? Maybe next year we can do a real musical, with auditions and an orchestra and everything.”

“I’d still help with costumes,” she said. “I’m sure we could ask Lauren and the A/V club to handle sound.”

He hugged her suddenly, and she hugged him back, feeling a rush of gratitude for his warmth and strength.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For being my friend, and for not judging me when I make mistakes.”

“I don’t always agree with your decisions, Will, but I’m always going to listen to the reasons behind them.” She patted his back. “I trust you.”

He laughed quietly. “Yeah, that’s always going to feel amazing. I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“It’s not because you don’t ever make mistakes,” she said. “It’s because everything you do comes from your heart. That’s so much more important. Now, tell me more about _South Pacific._ ”

* * *

For the rest of the morning, everything at Tessera seemed to happen very slowly. Lydia brought Sarah her in from the barn and left her in the library where she and Adam had immersed themselves in poetry. She wasn’t even permitted to go to the bathroom alone. With no phone, no computer and no one to talk to besides Shelley and Keats and a hundred other dead people, the only thing left to do was pace.

She caught a glimpse of just about everybody other than Tess, but none of them would stay and talk to her except for Stephen, who brought her breakfast.

“The local police are on their way up to the camp now,” he said. “Burt and Carole should be here in less than a half hour. You might as well have a seat.”

“Not sitting,” she muttered, staring at the floor. _Probably not for a week._

A look of sympathy flitted over his face and was gone. “We’ve contacted Timothy, and Kurt and Finn, and Irene let Lauren know you’re okay. Anyone else we should be talking to?”

Gingerly, she dug in her pocket for the notebook paper bearing Vaughn’s phone number. “She gave me a ride from Gary.”

“I won’t bother to lecture you on the follies of hitchhiking; I suspect you’ll get plenty of that from your family.”

“I could have stolen a car instead of hitchhiking,” said Sarah. “I’ve known how to drive since I was eight. Ma was too drunk to drive to work most mornings.”

He sighed. “Yes, well, there’s no doubt you’ve seen more in your brief life than most of us would care to know. Somehow along the way, you’re going to have to figure out how to be a kid again.”

She finished all the food Stephen brought her and distracted herself with a volume of Elizabeth Barrett Browning until the door opened again and Carole rushed in, followed more slowly behind by a white-faced Burt.

“Sarah, oh, thank god you’re okay,” she said. She stopped short of hugging her, which was good, considering Sarah could barely look her in the eye.

“What were you thinking?” Burt said. He didn’t bother to disguise the anger in his voice any more than Lydia had, but he didn’t shout. She wondered if that was because he knew men shouting was a kind of trigger thing, or because he was too exhausted to shout at her. She wasn’t sure which one was worse.

“I was doing what I had to do.” She set the book down on the table and made herself return his gaze. “Nobody else was handling Noah. I wasn’t going to let my dad do it.”

“Yeah? And what do you think would have happened if _you_ hadn’t come back?”

Carole put a hand up, but Sarah nodded. She deserved his wrath.

“If it helped Noah, it would have been worth it.”

“Not to _me,”_ he whispered. “It wouldn’t have been worth it to _me.”_

When Burt reached out and pulled her to him, she almost didn’t let him, but her own exhaustion seemed to be winning out over stubbornness. Carole came over and joined them, a circle of arms around her that felt almost good. She yelped when Carole nudged her backside.

“Are you hurt?” she said anxiously.

“Just my butt,” Sarah told her. “Lydia spanked me, for real.”

“She—!?” Burt jerked back in outrage, but Carole touched his shoulder.

“Don’t. Not right now.”

“But she can’t do that to a kid,” he protested. “Sarah’s not even her _own_ kid.”

“I kind of am, though,” Sarah said. “You don’t need to be mad about that. I’m not. Plus there’s so much other stuff happening to be mad about. What’s going on with Noah?”

Burt didn’t look like he was going to let it go, but Carole said, “Tess made some phone calls, and the Terrebonne police department was alerted to a potential health concern at the campground. They’re apparently investigating it today. That’s about all we can do.”

Sarah glared at her. “People keep saying that. _There’s nothing we can do._ What a crock of shit. We can do tons more.”

“Not without risking your future, and Noah’s,” said Burt. He took her hand and held it very tightly. At least his color looked better now. A vision of him in the hospital bed came to her, and she felt suddenly horrified.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “Please don’t have another heart attack.”

He sighed. “You have about as much control over that as I do over your brother. But I think I’m going to be okay. Now, I think Stephen said something about food, before we turn around and drive back to Lima?”

She looked at Carole. “That’s all?”

“That is not all,” Carole said, sounding as severe as Sarah had ever heard her. It was almost a relief. “You are in seventeen kinds of trouble, and I don’t think you’re going to be allowed to be alone again until you’re an adult. But we’ll deal with it at home.”

 _Home._ Sarah closed her eyes and leaned against Carole, thinking about her room, the house, all the things she’d imagined and brought into reality with Burt and Carole’s help. She was grateful, more grateful than she’d ever be able to tell them—and, still, she couldn’t stand down from this.

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” she said. “But I’m not sorry for trying to fix it.”

“I know,” said Burt. He touched her hair. “I’ve been trying to treat you like a younger, female version of Kurt, but that’s not who you are. You never learned how _not_ to be responsible for everything. I guess we can’t expect you to know how to do that without a lot of practice, and help.”

She watched him for signs of anger, but they seemed to be gone for now. She’d still be watching for them, for weeks. They might come back.

“What if I never learn it?” she asked.

“Then I guess you’ll get into trouble a lot,” he said firmly. “And we’ll love you just as much.”

This was such a weird answer that she didn’t say anything else, turning it over and over inside her head, while Stephen brought food for Carole and Burt. No one else came back in, not even Lydia. It didn’t take long for Carole to get her buckled into the back seat of the station wagon, and Sarah was asleep before they reached the highway.

* * *

“Sarah,” she heard Kurt call softly, and she stirred in the darkness of her bedroom. The light of the hallway flooded in as he opened the door a little more. “You ready for another visitor?”

Lauren had been there when they’d gotten home, and she’d already spoken with Jake and Tanisha. “Who?” she said.

“It’s Frances.”

Sarah sat up in bed, switching on the light next to her bed. “Yeah, absolutely. She can come up.” She gathered her wayward hair into a ponytail and shoved it into a scrunchie.

Frances’ face was worried, and it didn’t go away when she appeared in the doorway. “Hi.”

“Come in,” Sarah said, patting her bed. Frances made her way around the clothes on her floor and the discarded remnants of her running-away pack and climbed onto the foot of the bed, but she didn’t get any closer than that. “I guess you’re pretty pissed at me.”

“Not so much that,” Frances said slowly, “as hurt.”

“Because I didn’t tell you where I was going?”

“Because you told so many other people. But I had to hear it from Finn.” Frances leaned back against the wall, letting her ankles dangle off the edge, and hugged her arms unhappily. “I guess you didn’t trust me not to tell.”

“I didn’t want to put you in that position. You would have gotten more in trouble than anybody else, and you would have worried more than everyone else. This way you had less time to worry because you didn’t know.”

“I _wanted_ to know,” Frances protested. “You’re _supposed_ to let your best friend be the one to worry. It’s a privilege.”

“Well, I think you can be damn sure I’ll give you reasons to worry again.”

She knew it was a weak joke, and Frances just made a face at her. Sarah sighed.

“Look, I’m not so good at this best friend business. I’ve never done it before you, and I’m probably going to mess up a lot. Tatenui said I have to learn how not to be responsible for everything.”

Frances rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She reached out her arms. “Would you come over here?” Frances’ gaze went immediately to the door, and she added, “We can close that, if you want.”

“I wasn’t sure if that was allowed.”

“Because of the kissing?”

“Because you’re in trouble,” she said, flushing. But she did get up from the bed and silently shut the door. This time she sat down closer to Sarah, close enough to allow her to wrap her arms around her. They sat like that for a long moment, holding on to one another. It didn’t feel like hugging Noah, but it made her miss him enough to get her crying again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had it all planned out, but as soon as Tess found out what was going on, that was kind of the end, and now I’m home and I’m grounded forever and I don’t even have Noah back.”

Sarah sighed loudly. “You’re sorry for all that, but you’re not sorry for hurting my feelings?”

“For that too,” she added. “Really for that too.”

“You’re kind of a crappy girlfriend, Sarah.”

“I know.” She took a peek at Frances’ stormy face. “I didn’t actually know I was your girlfriend.”

“Don’t change the subject. I’m mad at you, and I don’t want you to be cute and funny and try to kiss me.”

“I’m not _cute,”_ Sarah objected, and Sarah let out an exasperated groan.

“You are so _annoying._ Why do you think you can get away with everything? You can’t just break all the rules and expect people to forgive you and go on like everything was the same. That’s not how the world works.”

“I never had anybody who wanted to forgive me before,” she retorted, “except Noah, and we forgave each other every time. So maybe that’s not how _your_ world works, but it was how _mine_ worked until last year.”

That made Frances pause. She shook her head in irritation. “So, what? How long do you expect me to wait until you figure out the actual rules?”

“Is there a book or a web site or something you could show me? Because if not, you’re going to have to teach me.” Sarah nodded at Frances’ doubtful expression. “I promise, I’ll try. I’m a sucky rule-follower, but I can at least learn them, and I’ll try not to hurt your feelings again.”

When she sat back against her pillows, Frances moved with her, resting next to her. She let Sarah put her arm around her.

“Can I kiss you now?” Sarah asked.

“Not yet.”

“Is this because you’re punishing me or because you don’t trust me?”

“The first one.”

“That’s fair,” Sarah said, nodding. “Maybe you can let me know when my punishment is over, so I don’t accidentally overstep and kiss you without permission.”

“Do you really think this is just a big joke?”

“No.” She hugged Frances closer. “I’m really scared about Noah, and I’m using humor to deflect my feelings.”

“Do you do that in your therapy sessions too?”

“Pretty much.”

There was another pause. Sarah stared up at the ceiling instead of at Frances’ angry face.

“Did you get to see the baby horse?” Frances asked. “The one who’s a year?”

“It was in the stable, but I didn’t get much time to do anything other than sleep and get a spanking before Lydia brought me in the house.”

“She spanked you?”

“Yeah, that’s how they do things at Tessera. Not like a sexy kind of spanking. A punishment kind.”

“I really don’t get the idea behind a sexy kind of spanking.”

“Well, it’s not your thing. You know, like some people like lacy lingerie and big boobs and dirty talk and whatever.”

“Yeah, I… don’t think I like any of those things.” She shifted closer to Sarah.

“That’s okay. You can like whatever you like.”

“I’m sorry you’re worried about Noah.”

Sarah nodded. “He’s going to come back screwed up, or he’s not going to come back at all. Either one is going to be really bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Frances said again. “I don’t think I want to punish you anymore.”

She took Frances’ face in both hands and kissed her a lot before before either of them said anything else. It made Frances cry, or maybe she’d been crying before and Sarah hadn’t realized she’d been doing it.

“Can I ask you for something?” she said.

Frances nodded, her face so close to Sarah’s. “What is it?”

“Can you talk to Blaine?” She watched Frances sit back and regard her. “I know it’s hard, when he’s so, you know, confused, but… I think he needs that connection to somebody who knows who he really is.”

Frances shook her head and sighed. “You really are a terrible girlfriend.” Then she kissed her again. “But you are a very thoughtful best friend.”

“I’ll take it,” said Sarah.

* * *

Kurt let his father handle the trick-or-treaters at the door that Sunday, while he and Finn spent the entire evening with Sarah on the green couch on the second floor. The sounds of children coming and going, intermingled with _South Pacific_ playing on the TV, were calming.

“I’m bummed she didn’t even let me go see you guys in Rocky Horror,” Sarah said from under Kurt’s duvet.

“Nobody saw us in Rocky Horror,” said Kurt. “Even if you had been allowed to go, it wasn’t a performance for anybody but us.”

That wasn’t quite true, but Kurt was pretty sure no one else had noticed Dave watching them from the back of the auditorium. Kurt hadn’t asked him about it, but he wasn’t in the mood for another confrontation at the moment.

“I called Noah’s voice mail again before dinner, but it was still full. My dad’s not answering his phone either.” She stared glumly at the wall. “I hate this doing-nothing shit.”

“Get used to it,” Finn advised. Kurt knew she wasn’t the only one who’d gotten in trouble for attempting to rescue Noah, even if Finn’s punishment had been more private than Sarah’s. “I think if any of us even mention one more creative idea to either of our parents, it’s going to get slapped down.”

“My dad always had too much imagination, too,” said Sarah. “I guess we inherited that from him. Ma had zero imagination.”

Kurt sighed. “So even after all that effort, we’re still back where we started. We don’t know where Noah is, or even if they recovered him.”

Finn gathered Kurt closer into his arms. “Kind of the worst anniversary ever, huh?”

“At least you’re home.” He poked Sarah with his toe through the duvet. “Home and safe.”

“Safe is _boring,”_ she moaned.

Finn grinned at Kurt. “Welcome to being a kid."


	33. Puck at Adventure Camp, Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puck’s song here might sound familiar if you listened to a certain singer’s duet release in spring 2016. 
> 
> Get your tissues ready.

It was strangely easier to be at camp once the other boys had departed. Puck woke up the next morning and came out to the kitchen, half-expecting it to be empty, but Juan Pablo was there, stirring the polenta.

 _“Quiero ayudar,”_ Puck said awkwardly.

Juan Pablo nodded, handing him the spoon, and started on the eggs. They worked in companionable silence until the tattooed Banana Boat delivery guy arrived at the back door.

“Just the one box today,” he called, then stopped when he saw Puck. “Oh. I thought everybody went home already.”

“I’m sticking around for a while,” said Puck.

The guy took a step backward, looking uncertain. Puck wondered if he should go get Cy, but the guy seemed harmless, regardless of the size of his forearms.

“Really, it’s okay,” Puck said, trying to be as reassuring as he could be, given the circumstances. “I talked to my dad today. He’s okay with it too.”

Puck wanted to invite Juan Pablo to sit down and eat some breakfast, too. It seemed only fair, since he’d been the one who’d made most of it, but he disappeared when Hunter and Cy showed up.

The three of them sat together at the table by the window, looking out over the trees by the ridge as they ate.

“We’ll start your therapy by talking,” said Cy. “The more you can bring to the surface now, the easier it’ll be later. You’ll have plenty of breaks and time to be outside, and regular mealtimes. Later we’ll adjust that schedule as needed.”

Puck nodded, taking another bite of eggs. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Cy nodded. “I imagine Hunter already told you that this therapy won’t be easy. You have to be willing to go through a lot to get to where you want. There might be setbacks, but we’re going to get through it. When we’re done, all those things you’re trying to let go will be much easier to walk away from.”

It was the look on Hunter’s face that caught Puck’s eye. Puck didn’t say anything at the table, but he asked Hunter about it later, before bed, when he was playing his guitar.

They sang together sometimes. Hunter mostly knew stuff with religious overtones, which weren’t always much fun to sing, but his voice was strong and clear, and luckily their tastes overlapped when it came to Bob Marley.

_One love, one heart  
_ _Let's get together and feel all right  
_ _Hear the children crying, hear the children crying  
_ _Saying give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel all right_   


_Let them all pass all their dirty remarks  
_ _There is one question I'd really love to ask  
_ _Is there a place for the hopeless sinner  
_ _Who has hurt all mankind just to save his own beliefs?_

“When Cy was talking earlier.” Puck strummed through the chords he’d written that afternoon, a minor progression: B-flat minor, F minor, F sharp, over and over.It made him think about Kurt’s chord progression, the one that had ended up as the descant in their song.

“Yeah?”

“You were kind of… I don’t know. You looked like you thought I shouldn’t do this.” 

“No!” said Hunter, clearly surprised. “No, that’s not what I was thinking. I think I was reacting to what you said, that it didn’t sound so bad.”

“Okay?” He modified the progression so the B-flat minor went to E-flat minor.

Hunter wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them.

“It’s bad,” he said. “I mean — I haven’t gone through it. I’ve done the talking part, but not the other stuff. Cy won’t give me the full thing until I’m seventeen. It doesn’t stick so well with younger kids; I guess our brains are too malleable or something. But I’ve watched a bunch of guys go through it.” He looked right into Puck’s eyes. “It’s _bad_.”

“I know,” said Puck. “I think I do, anyway. I can imagine.”

“They’re going to make you talk about everything. All the stuff you’re ashamed of. Dig up all the things you never thought you could be free of, and make you tell them.”

“Hey, whatever. They can bring it.” Puck set the guitar down, looking more closely at Hunter. “You know just how this goes. But you want it anyway?”

Hunter nodded. Puck watched his face for any sign of expression, but he was just calm.

“Why?”

“Because I deserve it,” said Hunter. “Kids like me, we want something we shouldn’t. We need… training. Rehabilitation. We need help _not_ wanting it.”

Puck was pretty sure Hunter wouldn’t understand the kind of _help_ he got from Adam and Finn and Kurt, but he nodded. “You think it’s bad for you.”

“You know the Goo Goo Dolls?” said Hunter, surprising him.

Puck picked through the chords for “[Sympathy](https://youtu.be/BGaK5AEPf40?t=22s)” while Hunter sang:

_And I wished for things that I don’t need  
_ _And what I chase won’t set me free  
_ _And I get scared but I’m not crawling on my knees  
_ _Oh,yeah, everything’s all wrong, yeah  
_ _Where the hell did I think I was?_

The part about “All the empty things disguised as me” made Puck grimace. He paused, flexing his fingers.

“Hurts,” he said.

“Your hands hurt?”

“No, inside.” Puck rubbed his chest. “It’s hard. Hard to say how your own thoughts can hurt you.”

Hunter’s eyes softened. “That’s good. You should write that down.”

“I guess.” 

But he did, after Hunter went to his own room. He wrote for a long time. Trying to make the words say the things he wanted them to say without them sounding completely stupid was hard, a lot harder than writing music. The music fell into place quickly, but he could tell the lyrics were going to take a while. Eventually he shut the notebook and returned it to his backpack.

He opened the window to listen to the sounds outside. The frogs and bugs didn’t sound the same as home. He lay there in the dark feeling homesick for fucking _Lima._

“Hope I dream about you, baby girl,” he said to the window. It was easy to pray for that. She’d never been anything but good.

* * *

Puck decided, for breakfast the next day, he was going to use up some of those bananas in the kitchen. He found the waffle iron and made it through two iterations of batter before Juan Pablo or Felipe arrived. They looked at one another uneasily as Puck served them each a banana waffle with butter and a sprinkling of crushed peanuts and powdered sugar.

“Come on, try them,” he urged. “I don’t make anything bad.”

They ate every bite, exclaiming and smiling, and watched carefully as Puck made another batch. Cy and Hunter showed up later and loved them just as much, praising their moistness and texture. They didn’t even comment on the fact that Felipe and Juan Pablo were sitting with them at the table, reaching out and stealing Puck’s waffles from his plate, like they’d always been friends. It made Puck smile.

That might have been the last time he smiled all day. As much as Puck had challenged Hunter to _bring it_ the night before, actually being confronted with probing questions about things he barely remembered from his youth made him feel uneasy. “I don’t know” was apparently not an acceptable answer. Cy just asked the questions again, telling Puck to close his eyes and put himself back into his memories of being four or seven or ten. By the time lunch rolled around, his mind was full of distressing and violent snapshots.

“I’m not really hungry,” he told Juan Pablo, who frowned, but brought him some plain toast with a half a banana.

The thing was, he wasn’t even sure if what he remembered was accurate. He had clear memories of his brother _telling_ him about things his dad had done to him, but Puck didn’t remember any of them happening to _him._ It made it hard for him to feel attached to any of them in the way Cy was asking him to be.

Cy asked him a fuckton of questions, and they got progressively more invasive and unpleasant. He got Puck to talk about his sexual fantasies one minute, and then the next he was back to childhood memories of his father. Sometimes Cy had him shout at the memory-figure of his father, stuff he’d never said but maybe had wanted to say. Collectively, it had the effect of getting him all worked up with no particular outlet for how he felt.

 _No sex,_ he thought, leaning his head against the wall during a break. It was cold and gritty against his skin. _What’s it been, two weeks now? And no spanking, for longer than that. At least I get to help make breakfast and do the dinner dishes._

When Cy sat down across from him in the dim room again, he could feel his patience slipping away.

“Tell me more about your experiences with Blaine,” he said. His voice was neutral, as always.

He shrugged dully. “What do you want to know?”

“He seems to be of particular interest to you. What do you think was special about him?”

“I don’t know.” Before Cy could give him the standard follow-up, he held up a weary hand and added, “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you anything. I’ll tell you _everything._ All right?”

It took a while. There were so many memories of Blaine to share: little things, about the way his hair curled, or how he looked up at Puck, so trusting. Cy just listened and wrote notes, but eventually his pencil stopped, too.

“You want to know about _all_ the stuff we did?” Puck pressed. “How about last summer, me and Kurt and him, the three of us in the king-sized bed on the third floor?”

Cy wasn’t asking questions anymore, but Puck wasn’t stopping. He was just getting started.

“How about once Finn joined us? I can give you all the details. Blaine always said I was the best fuck he’d ever had.”

Cy turned pages in his notebook, looking away. “Noah…”

“How about my seventeenth birthday, the first time I did him bare? Kurt ordered me to do it — just reached between his legs and put his dick right inside me.”

He closed the notebook. “I think we’re done for tonight.”

Somehow Puck had risen to his feet. “Hey, come on. Don’t walk away now. I’m putting myself on display for you. What do I care if you don’t like what you see? Everybody _thinks_ they know who I am. They say, _that Noah Puckerman, he’s a piece of work,_ but they don’t know the half of it. I’ve been hiding who I am my whole life. And now _you_ wanna know _how does it feel?_ Welcome to my fucking life. Go ahead, stare all you want. Welcome to the show.” He was shouting now, at Cy’s back, turned away from him.

Cy opened the door and went into the hallway, casting him a cryptic look. “Good night, Noah. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Fuck you!”

“I’ll pray for you.”

Puck spent the next hour fuming in his room, pacing back and forth. For the first half, he was kicking the legs of the furniture, and for the second he was feeling more than a little embarrassed. He sat down on his bed and stared at the sticker on his guitar case declaring _Hello, My Name is Mr. Lucis._ The scrawled _i_ ran into the _c,_ making it look like _Lugs._

Finally he went to knock on Cy’s office door. Puck didn’t have much hope Cy would still be up, but he was. He raised an eyebrow at Puck, adjusting his glasses.

“May I help you?”

“I’m sorry,” he told Cy. “I didn’t mean to talk to you like that. I know you’re only trying to help.”

Cy nodded. “I accept your apology, Noah. I want you to know, I don’t blame you for these outbursts. You’ve been living a life of sin for so long, it’s frankly amazing to me that you can recognize you even have a way out.”

Puck took a detour on the way back to his own room and stood outside in the parking lot for a while. It was too dark to take a walk, but he appreciated being able to see the stars for a few minutes, at least.

When he looked over, Hunter was standing beside him. He gave Puck a sympathetic smile.

“You were pretty mad,” he said. “I heard you yelling down the hallway.”

“Not mad, exactly. I was —“ Puck scuffed his shoe through the gravel. “Yeah, I was sick of being judged, but… not by him. By everybody out there, everybody who thinks they know me. And all I could think was, _this_ is what you judge me for? You don’t even have a tiny piece of the information here. If they knew…” He laughed. “I mean, I haven’t told him anything about getting chained up and whipped.”

Hunter laughed, too, like it was a joke. “Yeah.”

Puck gazed up at the sky. “And at the same time, it’s good to _say_ everything. All the shit that’s been in my head for all these years. The — stuff I’m remembering.”

Hunter put a hand on his shoulder. “You want me to pray with you?”

Puck went ahead and did it. Asking God for forgiveness still felt pretty useless, but doing it out there in the mountains, surrounded by the brightest stars he’d ever seen, while holding Hunter’s hand, was calming.

He spent a good chunk of the rest of the night scribbling lyrics in his notebook and crying. When he was finally able to sleep, he dreamed of his seventeenth birthday, of the rainbow cake Carole and Sarah had made for him, of being chained to Carl’s St. Andrews cross, and Blane receiving him afterward in his arms. He’d never felt so _rich_ as he had in that moment. Waking up from that dream made him wonder what exactly it was he thought he’d been doing wrong — what, after all, had made him want to come here in the first place.

* * *

The days began to blur together. He hadn’t yet gotten tired of banana waffles by the time they ran out of the bananas in the crate, but he managed to craft a pretty good alternative with finely-ground oatmeal, applesauce and raisins. Hunter showed up every morning for breakfast to eat whatever Puck made. Sometimes Juan Pablo and Felipe would join them. They made a show of stealing Puck’s waffles, but Puck didn’t feel all that playful anymore, and from their uneasy expressions, he could tell they were worried about him.

He spent most mornings talking with Cy. The questions continued to be very personal. Cy wasn’t upset at him when he supplied details, but he made it clear that most of what Puck had done in the past were things he should be seeking to stop doing. Themes like “Just for today, I’m not going to think about touching another boy” ran through their discussions and activities — although Puck wasn’t sure how he was supposed to keep from _thinking_ about something.

His outdoor time each day was slowly being reduced, until one day when he asked if he could go for a walk, Cy told him no.

“Discipline sometimes requires sacrifice,” he said, sounding regretful.

The first time Puck realized Cy was actually using aversion therapy was probably not the first time he’d done it. In the middle of a graphic explanation of a particular act, Puck paused, wrinkling his nose.

“What is that _smell?”_ he said. He had to actively suppress his gag reflex.

“Just go on talking, Noah,” said Cy. He did not seem to be bothered by the odor, which to Puck was reminiscent of rotting meat.

The smell came back several times that day, accompanied by others, sharp and pungent and nauseating. They followed him throughout the day, killing his appetite.

That night he woke up with the smell strong in his memory, and almost vomited over the side of the bed. He had to sit there for several minutes, taking long, slow breaths, while trying to remember what he’d been dreaming about. It was a while until his stomach and his mind were calm again.

Another morning they got him up while it was still dark out. He already wasn’t sleeping very well, even worse than usual. Sometimes he fell asleep in the middle of therapy, or woke up in the middle of conversations he couldn’t remember beginning.

One time they put him in a room with nothing but a chair, a mattress and a stack of soft-core porn magazines. They were mainstream female models, which wasn’t Puck’s usual preference when it came to porn, but looking at them made him hard, so he jerked off anyway. Nobody came in to stop him.

Later in the week — he thought it had been about a week, but he wasn’t exactly sure — they sat him down in front of a large screen and taped wires to sensitive parts of his body. The pictures and video clips on the screen were pleasant, but the jolts of electricity were not. Nothing felt bad enough for him to call it _pain,_ but it was hard to tell the difference sometimes. He remembered fighting them when they took out his nipple ring, which had been sore before they’d even hooked up the electrodes.

Puck was vaguely aware of Hunter’s presence between sessions in the room, but he seldom had a chance to interact with him now. He wasn’t sure if he’d talked to anybody other than Cy in days. He’d stopped having regular mealtimes. When they gave him food, he ate it, and he wasn’t really aware of what it tasted like. Sometimes they let him lie down, and sometimes he slept and sometimes he didn’t. Between the constant intrusive questions, the unpleasant stimulation, and the disruptions to his schedule, it was getting to be hard to recognize the difference between memories and things that were happening right now.

At one point Hunter came into his room and sat with him on his bed. He wasn’t smiling, and in fact looked a little uncomfortable.

“How’re you doing?” he asked.

Puck snorted, and Hunter nodded.

“Yeah. I figured. I’m, uh…”

He fell silent. Puck could see Hunter looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re bait,” said Puck.

Hunter cringed a little, but after a moment, he nodded.

Puck suppressed the angry laugh that threatened to erupt from his throat. “I wasn’t going to fuck you last week. Why would I want to do it now?”

“Pretty sure they’re not expecting you to do that now either. I wouldn’t let you, anyway.”

“But they want me to want you.”

“To _not_ want me,” Hunter clarified.

“Fuck that. They want me to want you, so they can shoot me down and make me hate myself.”

Hunter wasn’t denying any of it. He just sat there looking miserable.

“Well, come on,” said Puck, feeling aggravated. “What are you supposed to do?”

“I’ve never —“ Hunter let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing his hands into fists and releasing them. “Of course I care about the program. I want it to succeed. But I’ve never felt —“ He looked up at Puck, then quickly away. Puck rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry, not really in a mood to talk you through your first crush.”

It took Puck five seconds to feel shitty about saying it, but he sat there another minute and a half before he actually did anything about it. He reached out and touched Hunter’s knee. Hunter took his hand, squeezing it, and he didn’t let it go.

“Sorry. You don’t need me to treat you like a jerk.”

“I’m not going to blame you if you do,” Hunter said quietly. “You’ve got a lot to lose by being here.”

“Yeah, and I asked for it, right? I deserve everything I’m getting.”

Hunter didn’t deny that either. He let Puck put an arm around him, then pull him into a hug. Puck could feel him shaking.

“I’m not making it up,” Hunter whispered. “How I feel. I’m just — I wish things were different.”

Puck sat there and waited while Hunter slowly took off his shirt and moved in close, kissing him. It wasn’t until Puck kissed him back that he felt the revulsion roll through him, like a wave of noxious poison. His skin become clammy. Seconds later, he gagged, and Hunter stood up quickly. He was crying.

“I’m _sorry,”_ he said, with force. “I wish it hadn’t worked.”

Then he ran out the door, leaving Puck sitting on the bed holding Hunter’s shirt, the taste of bile thick in the back of his throat.

* * *

It got worse before it got better. There were a couple days when Puck didn’t make it through a session without getting sick. Cy let him go outside and sit on the porch when his headaches were particularly bad, which made him feel relieved and depressed at the same time. Playing guitar and singing was still fine, so he did a lot of that when he wasn’t in a session, but it was upsetting in its own way to be immersed in nothing good but music. The scenery continued to be beautiful and the weather was brisk and clear, but he was starting to feel desperately lonely.

Eventually, he seemed to reach a kind of equilibrium. The electric stimulation didn’t change his state much anymore, even if it was still really unpleasant. He was at the point where he automatically turned away every time he was shown a naked picture of a guy, without thinking about doing it. Nobody punished him for masturbating to pictures of girls, so he took advantage of that whenever he was given them. He still wasn’t sure if anybody was watching or listening to him doing it, but he figured it didn’t matter much either way.

One night, Hunter came into his room again and sat on the bed beside him. Neither of them made a move toward one another this time. Puck didn’t attempt small talk, either.

“You’re going home tomorrow,” Hunter said at last.

Puck stared at him in disbelief. He wasn’t sure how to say _I forgot I was going home_ without it sounding ridiculous. He just nodded.

Hunter nodded too. “I’m not supposed to give you my contact information.”

“Yeah, that would probably suck for both of us.”

“I’m just telling you,” he went on doggedly, “because I didn’t want you to think I didn’t want to.”

Puck had all _kinds_ of responses to that, but at the moment he just felt too tired to say any of them. He nodded again, trying to think of something positive he could say, anything at all.

“You have a good voice,” he said.

“Thanks,” Hunter said. “You do, too. You’re really—”

“Don’t.” Puck held up a hand, and Hunter fell silent. “Just… don’t.”

Hunter nodded. After another moment he got up and left.

* * *

On the last morning, Puck brought his guitar with him to breakfast. Cy’s _Hello, My Name is Mr. Lucis_ sticker was still stuck to the side of his case. He couldn’t quite bring himself to rip it off.

Felipe was there, although Juan Pablo had disappeared a week ago and Puck hadn’t been able to get anything out of Felipe about where he’d gone. He made eggs and listened while Puck sang him Neil Diamond songs.

 _“Gracias por cocinar conmigo,”_ Puck told him. Felipe smiled, revealing pleasantly crooked bottom teeth.

“You made the kitchen beautiful,” Felipe said.

It made Puck blush, even though he was pretty sure Felipe didn’t mean it in any intimate way. Hunter didn’t show up for breakfast. Neither did Cy. Puck and Felipe ate the eggs alone together.

It was while he was washing the dishes that he realized there was a commotion brewing outside. Puck glanced over at Felipe, who looked as surprised as he was.

“Are there more boys coming? _Campamento?”_

Felipe shook his head. He opened the back door, holding it wide for Puck to see the police cruiser parked out front. He could also see the Banana Boat truck sticking out behind it. It looked like the battered truck had been in an accident; the sign on the truck, with its cheerfully painted figure, had been broken in half, so that it now read _NANA OAT._ The tattooed delivery guy was standing there, talking quietly to the guy in uniform.

“Oh, fuck,” Puck whispered. “This isn’t going to be good.”

It wasn’t long before Cy arrived in the parking lot. He shook the officer’s hand and stood there listening and talking, maintaining his placid smile for longer than Puck expected.

“I should go,” Puck told Felipe, who nodded, looking worried. He handed Puck a dish towel to dry his hands, then his guitar case, and hurried him out the back hallway toward Puck’s room.

He managed to get his clothes and his few belongings packed into his dad’s duffel before there was a knock on the door. It was the uniformed officer.

“Noah Puckerman?” the man asked.

“That’s me,” said Puck.

“Son, I’m Officer Dewey from the Terrebonne sheriff’s department. We’re going to ask you to come with us to the station.”

“What, so I’m in trouble for going to camp?” he asked, as calmly as he could.

“You’re not in trouble at all, son. We just want to ask you some questions. Do you have contact information for your mom or dad?”

“My ma died last year, but my dad’s phone number is on my bag.”

The officer escorted him out to his cruiser, past Cy and the NANA OAT truck and the Banana Boat guy, who looked both embarrassed and relieved to see Puck. He didn’t say anything, though. Neither did Cy, who wasn’t smiling anymore. Hunter was nowhere to be seen.

Before they drove away, Puck spotted Felipe standing in the door to the kitchen. He gave Puck a brief wave, almost a salute. Puck hoped he wasn’t involved in this in any way, because he would have hated to see Felipe lose his job, even a crappy job cooking for a camp like this.

“How’d you guys figure out where I was?” he asked Officer Dewey.

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that.”

“Was it the Banana Boat dude? I bet it was.”

Officer Dewey glanced at him sympathetically over the edge of the seat. “Sorry, son. I really can’t tell you.”

There wasn’t even a protective screen between the driver and Puck. He totally could have taken him, if he’d wanted to, could have choked him out and taken his gun and driven away in his stupid small town cop-mobile. For a brief, crazy moment, he considered it.

 _Tess wouldn’t approve,_ he finally decided. No matter who else was going to want him around when he got back to Lima, he suspected Tess probably would insist on him minding his manners.

Officer Dewey and a couple other people at the station, including a lady who reminded him a little of Ms. Pillsbury, did indeed ask him a bazillion questions. He answered them as best as he could. There wasn’t really anything he could say in his defense, other than _I asked for it_ and _my dad knew_ and _it really sucked._ The lady listened very carefully and took a lot of notes.

He waited for another two and a half hours before his dad showed up at the Terrebonne sheriff’s station. When his tried to hug him, Puck jerked away, glaring.

“At least you don’t _smell_ like booze,” he muttered.

“Look, I got here as fast as I could,” his dad protested. He glanced over at the desk clerk. “Can I take him home now? We have a long drive back to Ohio.”

It turned out to be more complicated than that. Puck refused to talk to his dad while they were waiting. Officer Dewey called his dad into his office and talked to him instead, while Puck continued to sit in the office. Eventually he took his guitar out of his case and worked on the chord progression for the song he’d written while he’d been at camp, humming under his breath.

“Can I get you something to eat?” the desk clerk asked. “You’ve been here a long time.”

Puck didn’t really want to eat crappy vending machine food, or really any food at all, but he drank the bottle of water she gave him.

It was dark by the time his dad finally signed the last paper and beckoned for Puck to follow. He looked a lot more like the angry father Puck remembered from much of his youth, which wasn’t exactly comforting. They loaded Puck’s things into the back of the truck.

“Stupid fucking bureaucracy. You’d think in Oregon it would be different.” He let out a long sigh as he settled behind the wheel, looking Puck over. “So? How was the second part of camp?”

“Lonely,” said Puck. “Boring. Confusing.” He shrugged, staring at the floor. “I guess it did what it was supposed to do, though.”

His dad nodded solemnly. “You’ve done a hard thing, Noah, but it was the right thing.”

Puck decided he wasn’t going to cry in front of his dad. With an effort, he managed to wait until they stopped at a gas station to use the bathroom. He locked the door of the single grimy stall and settled on the edge of the toilet seat, squeezing his eyes shut and wrapping his arms around his head before letting out the screams that racked his throat. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it would have been if someone had been spanking him into release, but it was something.

When they pulled into a motel for the night, his dad opened the glove box and handed Puck his phone.Puck stared at it. He had no idea what he should do with it.

“You might want to at least let your sister know you’re okay,” his dad said.

“You could have told her yourself,” Puck growled.

“Look, Noah, you can hate me all you want. I’m not looking for forgiveness. I know I’ve been a crappy father. This?” His dad pointed out the back window of the truck at the dark western horizon. “This was for you. Whatever chance you’ve got to make it in the next life, it’s on you to keep it going.”

Puck had no idea if he would end up with any control about where he went in the afterlife or not. He did decide he would make a reasonable attempt to check his messages, but by the time he charged his phone enough that it would start up again, he was on the fence again. When he saw the _78 new voice mails_ notification, he thumbed it off and tossed it on the floor next to the bed.

* * *

_And I was in love with things I tried to make believe I was  
_ _And I wouldn't be the one to kneel before the dreams I wanted  
_ _And all the talk and all the lies were all the empty things disguised as me_

_-[The Goo Goo Dolls, “Sympathy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGaK5AEPf40)”_


	34. Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally published in 2013 as a stand-alone story in [the Donut Holes series](http://archiveofourown.org/works/701969), which is a container for non-sexual Donutverse short stories. (You can read the sexy stand-alone Donutverse stories in [the 50 Kinky Ways series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/10521).) It’s very satisfying to see it integrated into the main canon of the Donutverse at last.

 

Kurt woke up on Saturday with an ache in his chest and tears on his cheeks. Finn was already awake, his head close beside Kurt’s on the pillow next to him, watching him.

“You were dreaming,” Finn murmured.

“Yeah.” His words came out thick, like his tongue had forgotten how to speak them in the aftermath of his dream. “You could have woken me up.”

“I know. But it wasn’t—it wasn’t too bad.” He touched Kurt’s chin with his thumb, wiping off tears. “Not like Puck’s dreams.”

Kurt nodded. “It was about Noah and you and me. How it used to be. Felt very real. Hard to wake up from it when…”

“When you might not ever have it again for real?” Finn nodded. He didn’t even look sad. That could have been infuriating if Kurt hadn’t already felt so emotionally exhausted. As it was, he didn’t have the energy to be mad at Finn. Not about this.

“How can you accept this situation so easily?”

“I don’t know,” Finn admitted. “My mom says it’s because I know I have to be strong and get through it for everybody else. I think you know that too.”

Kurt wiped his eyes. “I know if I see Blaine today, I’m going to have a hard time not falling apart. But I know it’d be worse not to see him at all.”

Finn nodded again. “Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?”

“You can’t do that, and you know it. Carl will be there, and… that’ll have to be enough.”

He let himself cry a little more as Finn gathered him up. It felt like a fortification against whatever might happen next.

 _Whatever it is,_ he thought, _it can’t be any worse than what’s happening now._

* * *

Carl silently held the door to Java the Hut for Kurt, letting him enter first. He grimaced, glancing around the room. "She moved things around."

Kurt chose a quiet table in the corner, away from the stage and the counter. "What?"

"The tables. It's a new configuration." Carl watched the empty stage, his face uneasy. "He's not going to like that. It's going to throw him off."

Kurt wanted to refute this statement, wanted to say with confidence _no, Blaine's not like that._ The fact that he couldn't was enough to make him want to turn around and climb into the Navigator and drive back to Lima. Kurt didn't know Blaine anymore. Whoever he had been over the summer, the boy Kurt had fallen in love with wasn't going to be the one on the stage. Santana had said the same thing. He thought he'd been prepared for this, but the longer he waited, the more he knew just how bad this was going to suck.

"He's struggling," said Kurt, and stopped at the look on Carl's face.

"He's broken," he said quietly. "Make no mistake about it, Kurt."

Kurt dropped his eyes to the table and took a long breath. He couldn't say anything.

Java the Hut was still mostly empty, but people were starting to filter in. Whatever else he was at the moment, Carl had said Blaine still knew how to fill a room, and he couldn't doubt that was true. He had enough intel from his roommate Jeff to know Blaine Warbler was also performing beautifully, impeccably, heartbreakingly. It was just that nobody else knew the rest of his life was as much an act as that was.

"Come on," said Carl, beckoning him along. "What are you drinking? Finn said something sweet and chocolatey."

"Grande nonfat mocha." Kurt smiled. "I asked Finn if the coffee was any good here, and he had no idea. He either gets these crazy Italian sodas, lime and things like that, or -"

"Hot chocolate," finished Carl, a little smile on his face. "Yes, I know."

Kurt blushed. Of course Carl did. He and Finn had come down here almost every weekend for months in the winter and spring, singing with Blaine. Kurt eyed him with mounting frustration. _Everything was complicated this summer, but at least we were happy. Now... Blaine, and Adam, and Noah. It's all slipping away. I can't hold on to any of it._

Carl touched his arm. "It's okay."

"No," said Kurt. "I don't really think it is. It hasn't been for weeks.”

He tipped his head to one side, considering. "No? How's your dad doing?"

"He's a lot better..." Kurt paused, then sighed at Carl's wry grin. "Okay. Maybe it is okay. I mean... do you think things can be awful and okay at the same time?"

"I think they usually are like that," said Carl. From his expression, Kurt guessed Carl knew precisely what he was talking about. He closed his eyes and tried to accept that reality.

When he opened them again, Irene was standing at the counter before him. There wasn't a hint of a smile on her face. He had to make an effort not to retreat before that regard.

“Kurt,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “Did your sister make it home all right?”

"Um." He glanced at Carl, who nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Her wide, expressive mouth twitched. “Lydia filled me in about her return. That kid’s lucky she didn’t get worse than a spanking. What can I get you?"

"Grande nonfat mocha for him,” said Carl, setting a couple bills on the counter. "Coffee for me."

She didn't even look at them as she turned to start the espresso machine. "You know your money's no good here. You might as well put it away now."

Carl smiled again, but it was softer this time. "I won't stop trying."

"That's because Tess taught you right. How's life treating you?"

Kurt didn't miss the dark look that passed over Carl, but he recovered quickly enough. "Probably as well as you would expect."

This puzzled Kurt, although Finn had explained a little of what Carl had said to him about Emma. _He’s not happy,_ Kurt thought, watching his face. _He’s getting married, but he’s not getting what he needs, and Irene knows it._

Irene laughed, without one change in her expression. "I bet you're right." She slid Carl's coffee across to him, watching Kurt. "About as well as I expect the rest of you are handling this year.”

“We’re hurting every day," he said steadily. “Finn’s strong, and he's dealing with it, but I don't think _happy_ is really in his vocabulary right now.”

Carl looked away, picking up his coffee and returning to their table. The coffee shop was starting to fill up. Irene watched him go with a little frown.

"That's a whole fucking lot of unhappiness, right there," she said, nodding at Carl. "And I'm arrogant enough to think I could solve the whole lot of it with a little judicious application of leather."

Kurt was startled into a laugh. Irene’s solemn brown eyes shone at him, even as her face stayed impassive.

"I - sometimes think about it," Kurt admitted. “God knows Finn needs it. I could cross all kinds of lines of consent, but... I've seen how bad that can be. He’s told me he doesn’t want it from me, so I’m not going to do it.”

"No," she agreed. "I'm not either. But it's comforting to know I'm not the only one who sees it. And I'm not above a phone call to Tess, either, because _she_ has blanket permission to deal with him as she sees fit.”

He felt warm inside, the way Irene was talking to him. It was the same way Gaga had spoken with them when they'd visited, for all she'd been much closer to them in age: like a fellow adult; like what he said and thought mattered. He accepted his coffee, wrapping his hand around the cardboard heat protector covering the glass.

"Finn's managing," he said. He looked at the empty stage. "But Blaine..."

Her lips tightened, following his gaze. "You'll have to watch him and decide that for yourself. And Kurt... remember, he's Patrick here. Not Blaine.”

Kurt nodded. It was strange to hear the name again after so many months. They'd eventually put the pieces together and figured out that Finn's Patrick was the same as Puck's boy at the bar, and the same as the boy who'd auditioned for RENT with Kurt and Mr. Schue and Toby and Shelby. So much had happened since then.

"Does being Patrick mean he gets to be any more himself?" he asked.

"I don't think so." She shrugged, leaning on the counter on crossed arms. "But maybe he doesn't have to hide in quite the same way."

There was so much he wanted to tell Irene, but he couldn't help but feel grateful for the way she was treading carefully around the minefield of issues with which they were dealing. She hadn't said one word about Puck, which was good. Tonight would be hard enough as it was. He reached for something easy.

"Darius did a great job in RENT," he said. “He told me he’s your nephew.”

The smile that bloomed on her face was almost more intimidating than her scowl. Kurt let out a little nervous laugh.

"That boy," she said, shaking her head. "He'll be the death of me. He’s really my cousin, but young enough that we usually said _nephew_. His momma never did understand him, but he's chock full of talent." She nodded at Kurt. "You did a great job, too."

"Oh - you were there?” It shouldn't have been a surprise. Of course Irene would come to see Darius perform, and Blaine.

"Darius had nothing but nice things to say about you. I think he was impressed with the way you boys handled your complicated relationships.” She gestured at the stage. “Patrick will be out in a few. You should go get settled now, if you don't want to draw attention to yourself."

Kurt decided a hug over the top of the counter would be too weird, but he gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you. For coming to the house to stay with us while our parents were gone, and for — for everything you've done for Finn and Blaine."

"I love them too." The statement was simple, matter-of-fact. She didn't say _Finn’s like my son,_ or anything like that, but everything implicit in those four words made Kurt pause and blink his eyes a few times before he headed back to their table.

Carl shifted his battered guitar case under the table, surveying the room.

"The girl in the front, with the glasses,” he said, pointing discreetly. "She's been here every week, since Patrick started coming. And the twins in the back, too —but don't turn and look at them, they'll get nervous."

The warmth that had been kindled by his conversation with Irene expanded inside Kurt. He felt that familiar possessive sensation, the one that usually accompanied thoughts of Blaine.

"He has fans," he said softly.

"Damn right he has fans." Carl's voice was mild, but he wasn't fooling Kurt. That was a relief, too. Carl had been Blaine's friend through all of this, and the fact that he was here at all, that he'd continued to come to this place that held such intense memories of Finn, just to give Blaine something familiar to hang on to, that meant something. "If you give me your phone, I'll take the video. You shouldn't have to be distracted by technology, not tonight."

Kurt smiled to himself; he knew how Carl felt about technology. He showed Carl what to press to start and stop the video, hoping it would come out okay. Finn needed to see this as much as Kurt himself did. Even if he couldn't be here in person, the video would be something.

And then the door opened again, to the jingle of bells, and Kurt watched as Patrick walked in.

 _His hair,_ he wanted to say. He fumbled for Carl's hand without even thinking about it, grasping it tight. _His eyes, and his hands, and that shirt, and god, his hair._

"He's — different," he managed to whisper. Carl nodded.

“That’s Patrick," he said. "Even if he can't be himself, he gets to be this, once a week."

Blaine set the guitar case down on the stage, nodding and smiling at the people who greeted him. His eyes passed over Carl and Kurt as though they weren't there, but Kurt had known to expect that. To Blaine, they _wouldn't_ be there. They couldn't be, or he couldn't cope. It was what he needed to do, to get through his father's sentence: _If you try to see Finn or Puck again, I'm taking you out of the country._ It was only luck that had kept his father from finding out about Kurt, too. But Blaine hadn’t acknowledged Kurt, either, not since that night his father had found him and Finn together.

Kurt made himself watch Blaine as he set his guitar case to the side and sat down at the piano, brushing his untamed hair out of his face. His neck was bare, released from his customary tie. That felt almost worse than anything, to see that bare neck. Kurt wondered if it hurt Patrick as much as it hurt Blaine to be without that protective clothing.

"Hey," said Blaine into the microphone.

Kurt flinched, and Carl squeezed his hand once more before turning his attention to holding the phone steady. There was a scattered _hey_ from the audience, and a few claps. Blaine's smile was sweet.

"How's everybody doing today?”

"Do Kid Fears," called one voice from the back. Blaine shook his head, his smile fading.

"I have a new one," he said. "Eliza Gilkyson. It's kind of been on constant repeat, these last couple weeks, and I think I might be ready to sing it now."

And then he looked at Kurt - _he looked at Kurt_ \- and he nodded, once. Kurt felt his heart stop, stutter, and start again, double time.

"Did he just--" he whispered.

"I'll be damned." Carl let the phone drop for a moment, and he stared at Kurt. "That was... unexpected."

It was all Kurt could do not to stand up and rush the stage. Blaine had _seen_ him. He'd seen him, and he was _still there,_ on the stage, calmly settling himself in front of the piano, letting his fingers skate over the keys.

Kurt felt his hands shaking. "I don't know what to do."

"Just listen. I think that's what he needs right now." Carl propped the phone up, pointing it at Blaine on the stage, trying to keep it steady.

Blaine played the opening bars, leaning in to the microphone, and began to sing.

[https://youtu.be/dVlquwSyJpE](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UxhgrsNA7HA)

_Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow  
_ _Thou art with me  
_ _Though my heart's been torn on fields of battle  
_ _Thou art with me_

_Though my trust is gone and my faith not near  
_ _In love's sanctuary  
_ _Thou art with me_

He sounded a lot less different than Kurt had expected. The style of music was different from the music Blaine had performed with Kurt all summer on the stage, and it wasn't anything like what he'd been told the Warblers did at Dalton. But it was still Blaine, still his same clear, confident voice. And the lyrics... by the end of the first verse, Kurt had stopped trying to hold back the tears.

_Through desolation's fire and fear's dark thunder  
_ _Thou art with me  
_ _Through the sea of desires that drag me under  
_ _Thou art with me_

_Though I've been traded in like a souvenir  
_ _In love's sanctuary  
_ _Thou art with me_

He wasn't making eye contact with anybody in the audience, but Kurt could see the concentration on his face as he played the instrumental bridge. He'd known Blaine could play the piano, had heard him a couple times at Toby's, but watching him perform, like this...

"That's him," said Kurt fiercely. "He's right there, Carl. That's not an act."

"No," Carl replied, his voice faint. "I think you're right."

The last verse was as straightforward as the others had been, but Kurt found himself singing harmony under his breath. He realized Carl was doing the same.

_Through the doubter's gloom and the cynic's sneer  
_ _Thou art with me  
_ _In the crowded rooms of a mind unclear  
_ _Thou art with me_

_Though I'll walk for a while down a trail of tears  
_ _In love's sanctuary  
_ _Thou art with me_

Carl stopped recording as the applause swelled and filled the room, setting the phone on the table. Kurt captured it and stowed it safely in his pocket. Finn wasn't going to believe this without evidence.

And Blaine was _still there_ , on stage, accepting the audience's reaction with patient nods. He was _still there._ Kurt turned to Carl in desperation.

"I don't think I can leave without finding out—”

"Go on." Carl sounded resigned. "Worst possibility, he won't acknowledge you, just like he did with us.”

Kurt stood, pushing his chair back, and moved through the seated crowd to approach the stage. Blaine was opening his guitar case, apparently getting ready for his next song, but when he saw Kurt, he paused.

"Did you hear it?" he asked. The question was calm, almost offhanded, but he met Kurt's eyes, and waited for the answer. Kurt’s heart thudded erratically.

"I heard," Kurt said. “I—I wanted you to know. I'm taking it home with me."

There was a flash on Blaine's face, one that could have been pain, but it was hard to tell. "Thank you." He smiled at Kurt, just for a moment, before returning to tuning his guitar.

Kurt nodded, fumbling for words, but eventually gave up. _I have to touch you. Please, let me hold you. Come back to us._ None of it was possible, and words would just make a mess of this moment—which, after all, was more than he'd ever expected he would get.

He made it back to the table, sat down, and concentrated on breathing for a few minutes while Blaine strummed the opening chords to his next song. It didn't matter what it was. Kurt had heard him, loud and clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credit: “Sanctuary” copyright Eliza Gilkyson, [performed here by Lucy Kaplansky, Eliza Gilkyson and Paul Gorka singing together in the ensemble Red Horse](https://youtu.be/dVlquwSyJpE). Lucy’s songs have unexpectedly soundtracked an enormous portion of the Finn/Blaine relationship.


	35. Five Years Old: 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for domestic abuse.

_The impact of Aaron’s fist against the drywall shook the entire apartment, followed by an equally loud crack of thunder. Ruth cringed and clutched at her five-months-pregnant belly, praying_ **_please, please, no contractions, not yet_ ** _._

_“Can’t Noah come in here, Ma?” Timothy said anxiously. She bit her lip and listened to the muffled words spoken in angry tones, and Noah’s terrified responses._

_“They’re not done talking yet, Meemee.”_

_She had never been in a situation before in which she had to decide whether or not it was worth it to defend her child. She hoped she’d never be in it again. She might not have wanted this baby, but now that she was on the way, Ruth was going to do everything she could to protect her—which, unfortunately, meant staying behind this closed door to avoid getting caught in the crossfire._

_Another rumble of thunder rolled across the sky outside. Timothy’s eyes were enormous. “Noah must have done something really bad.”_

_“He took something. From Uncle Samuel.” She flinched again as something broke against the wall. “His silver wristwatch.”_

_The watch had belonged to their father, which didn’t mean anything to Aaron, but he’d fixated on the idea that Noah shouldn’t be taking things that didn’t belong to him. The hypocrisy of the moment was not lost on Ruth, who’d witnessed Aaron stealing more than once._

_“Noah’s bad, isn’t he, Ma.”_

_Timmy’s matter-of-fact tone made her want to cry, but she refused to do it in front of her boys. They didn’t need to see her looking weak. She shook her head. “He sometimes does bad things, but we all do. That doesn’t mean he’s bad.”_

_It wasn’t easy to say that about Noah and mean it. It wasn’t like he had a vicious streak or anything, but he did seem to rejoice in chaos, even if he did quickly switch to remorse. She could hear him crying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” as Aaron’s punishment continued. It was striking how similar Noah sounded to his father when he cried. She’d heard those notes of apology from Aaron’s own voice more than once, the way he begged for Ruth to forgive him when he realized what he’d done the night before._

_“You’re nothing but a worthless little shit,” Aaron yelled._

_Ruth opened her arms and tugged Timothy inside, holding him close. It was an indicator of how bad he was feeling that he didn’t object, just hid inside the circle of her arms, huddled against the bulge of her belly._

_“The baby is inside there,” he said, with interest._

_“That’s right, Meemee. It’s your sister.” She tried to keep her tone calm. “She’s getting bigger, getting ready to come out and play with you and Noah.”_

_He rested his hands on the rounded surface. Then he looked up at her. The thunder rumbled._

_“I think maybe she should stay in there,” he whispered._

_Squeezing her eyes closed, she kissed his head. Then she put him on the bed, wrapping him in the heavy blanket he preferred._

_“I’m going to bring Noah in here now,” she said, trying to sound confident. “You stay here. Don’t come out, okay? No matter what. Stay inside.”_

_“Okay.” That was an easy thing for him to agree to. He watched her from underneath the blanket as she slipped through the door and shut it again._

_Aaron took his hands off Noah the moment she appeared. He looked bleary and wrecked, as disappointed in himself as he was in his family._

_“That’s enough,” she said. “It’s his birthday, for fuck’s sake.”_

_“No wonder he’s so weak. You can’t even punish him right.” He spat the words at her. “Fucking useless.”_

_“Noah, go in the bedroom.”_

_Aaron stepped in Noah’s path, blocking his way. When Ruth came forward, he struck her against the cheek with an open hand. She couldn’t help but cry out._

_“He should see it.” His eyes glittered in the dim light of the hallway. “See you get what you deserve.”_

_“The only thing I deserve is for you to get the hell out of this house and leave us alone.”_

_Noah’s screams were worse than the blows, which came now in a rain from Aaron’s hands, his elbows. She tried to reach around him to grab Noah and pull him into the bedroom, but he wouldn’t let her near him. She began to wonder if she should try to get to the phone and call Samuel, but the phone was in the kitchen. She couldn’t leave Noah here now._

_Eventually they reached the expected conclusion of Aaron stumbling into the other room and passing out on the couch. The storm wasn’t letting up. Ruth went into the kitchen and wet a clean towel, pressing it to her face._

_“Come on,” she urged Noah, unfolding him from where he’d crumpled on the floor of the hallway. “It’s bedtime. Stay in my bed tonight. My big birthday boy.”_

_Noah was floppy and uncooperative. She finally managed to get him up and onto his feet._

_“I want cake,” he whined._

_All she wanted to say was_ **_I’m sorry, this isn’t your fault, you’re not a bad boy,_ ** _but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she snapped, “Shut up and go in the bedroom.”_

_Timothy fell asleep shortly thereafter, but Noah sat on the edge of the bed for a long time while the storm raged._

_“It’s not going to hurt you,” she told him, but all he could do was shake his head, and sit there on the edge of the bed, and cry._

* * *

_The watch never turned up, not even after Aaron tore apart Noah’s bedroom looking for it. Samuel said it wasn’t a big deal, the next day, when he stopped by to give Noah his birthday present._

_“He obviously cared enough about it to stand up to his father,” he told her. “Should I punish him more by making him give it back?”_

_Ruth didn’t have a good answer for that. “I just want the matter finished.”_

_“You’re going to have to be the one to finish it.”_

_“Oh, so now this is my fault?”_

_“No, Aaron gets to be an asshole all on his own. But you know he won’t stop.”_

_She watched Noah and Timothy sitting on the floor throwing Boggle Jr. cubes at one another, seemingly unaffected by last night’s trauma._

_“I don’t know,” she said. “He used to be so much better. And he loves them, Sammy; I know he does. I’ve seen it.How would it be better for Timmy and Noah and the new one to grow up without a father?”_

_He gave her a reproving look. “It’s not going to be better until you leave him, and you know it.”_

_Ruth rested a hand on her belly. The idea seemed as impossible and remote as the distant thunder. She didn’t have a job, or a house of her own. If she left, what would happen to the children? No, she was going to have to stick it out. Whatever was going to happen next, they were going to have to figure it out together._


	36. Never Been Kissed, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puck is home, but it’s not over. No warnings for this chapter, although if you are triggered by written descriptions of nausea, be aware that it happens a lot for Puck. Quoting from 2x06 Never Been Kissed.

Finn dropped onto the locker room bench with a heavy sigh. He didn’t see Sam behind him until the door slammed. It made him jump.

“Sorry,” he said to Sam. “I guess I’m a little on edge.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam agreed. “I mean, maybe it’s not for the same reason, but…” He paused, considering. “Actually, it might be. Are we talking about dating or Coaching?”

Finn glanced around at the guys nearby before leaning in a little closer and dropping his voice. “Are you sure that’s something you should be talking about at school?”

“Hey, _I’m_ talking about the first one. With _your_ ex-girlfriend.” Sam grimaced and shook his head. “I know ‘no means no,’ but am I supposed to believe she really _doesn’t_ want to have sex when she’s so obviously worked up?”

“Quinn gets worked up over a lot of things, but I think you should listen to her about the no-sex one.”

“I know. She had a kid. Puck’s kid, right?”

Finn tried not to let his face show how the question affected him. It wasn’t like Beth was his own kid or anything, but having her around almost every weekend for the past several months had made it feel like she kind of was, a little bit. She’d begun responding to his voice, smiling and laughing when he sang to her. He really hadn’t expected to miss her so much—maybe even as much as he missed Puck and Blaine.

“Half of the time she's with him,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “The rest, she’s with Mrs. Corcoran.”

Sam's reply came back muffled as he struggled to pull up his socks. “I guess thinking about having a kid inside your belly is a buzzkill all by itself. But, jeez, I don’t know, dude. How did we find the only two girls in high school that won’t put out?”

Finn wasn’t about to explain to Sam how he was relieved Rachel didn’t want that with him at the moment, that he was happy to stick with cuddling and kissing, and it was her _father_ who really tested his self-control. But at least he had an answer for how to deal with that. “Well… you can think of the opposite of what you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… you breathe, not just into your lungs, but into your stomach, like this.” He showed Sam the way Carl had taught him how to expel all the air, then let his diaphragm expand on its own, keeping his shoulders still and even. “Then you count one, two, three, four, as you’re breathing out, and then hold it, with no air. If you do it a couple times, it helps.”

Sam cocked his head, watching him curiously. “You’re serious?”

“I know it might feel little stupid, maybe, when you’re in the middle of things with Quinn.”

“No, no,” he said, “I mean, the Coach taught me the same kind of thing to keep focused when things, you know, hurt? I just never thought about using it when I'm hot and heavy with a girl.”

Finn unzipped his duffel. “Well, you’ve got to find something to be your own buzzkill. You know, something totally _not hot.”_

He’d never told Carl, but sometimes, when he needed something to cool himself off, Finn used the memory of Carl sitting across from him at the table at Tessera during Valentine’s Day and accidentally triggering the switch for the vibrating butt plug, in front of Burt and God and everybody. Kurt told him he’d see the humor in it eventually, but for now, it remained the single most humiliating event of his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Coach bawling out Anthony on the other side of the locker room.

“I don’t care!” she said in response to his uncomfortable protests. “If you’re on this football team, you’ll wear a cup!”

“Hey.” Strando leaned closer to him and Sam, nodding at Anthony. “Ever notice that when the Beiste gets all fired up, her underpants go right up her butt?”

Sam glared at Strando. “Don’t you talk about her that way.”

Strando held up both hands in mock surrender, raising an eyebrow and backing away. “Dude. What is she, your girlfriend?”

“She’s _your_ coach,” Sam said vehemently, “and she deserves your respect.”

The whole conversation left Finn feeling even less grounded. He was able to maintain his focus during practice, but he wondered why he wasn’t able to give _himself_ the kind of advice he’d given Sam.

After practice, he made his way through the empty school toward the choir room. He could hear Rachel and Kurt singing together, all the way down the hall, and paused for a moment to listen, smiling to himself as their voices blended.

_Who can explain it, who can tell you why_  
_Fools give you reasons, wise men never try_  
_Some enchanted evening, when you find your true love  
_ _When you feel her pull you across a crowded room…_

“It’s Finn’s part, though,” he heard Kurt say, breaking into the line. There was a smattering of melody as Kurt skittered his hands across the keys of the piano. “I’m not enough of a baritone to play Emile de Becque, as much as I might enjoy singing _en Français_. And Mr. Schue would never let me do Nellie.”

“I think a gender-bent cast would be fantastic,” said Rachel. “But, no, I think Mr. Schuester is going for a more traditional theater experience. You could play Cable.”

“Maybe. I think Sam should play Cable.”

“Noah would be a great Billis.”

There was a pause. Finn leaned on the door frame, hesitating outside the room. He heard Kurt sigh.

“I don’t know if Noah will be back in time to play anybody. Or even if he would want to.”

Finn cleared his throat and shuffled his feet before entering. Both Kurt and Rachel turned smiles onto him that were so similar, it made him stumble a little.

“Rehearsing already?” he said, forcing a cheerful smile in response to theirs. “Mr. Schue hasn’t even cast the parts yet.”

“Stay and sing with us,” Rachel begged, but he shook his head as Kurt rose to his feet from the piano bench.

“I promised to go home right after football,” Finn told her. “Lauren’s staying with Sarah until then, but she’s got a bad cold and she wants to go home as soon as she can.”

“Can’t Sarah stay by herself at home?”

Finn grimaced. “Seriously, Sarah’s not going to be allowed to have one second alone after running away this time.”

Kurt’s smile faded moments after they walked out of the choir room. Finn nudged his shoulder with his own.

“You guys sounded really good.”

“Singing with Rachel is effortless,” Kurt said. His tone was suddenly dull and tired. 

“Like it was with Blaine.”

Kurt looked at his feet, but he nodded.

“I watched the video of him at the coffeehouse three times this afternoon,” Finn added.

“Four times,” Kurt agreed in an undertone.

“He’ll be at Java the Hut next weekend. Sign up to do the open mic. Maybe he’d sing with you.”

The longing expression on Kurt’s face made Finn want to cry. “I don’t know if I could handle that.”

Finn wasn’t going to push him. He wasn’t sure, himself, if he could have done it, but there was no question of that happening. He wasn’t about to risk disrupting Blaine’s life further with his reappearance. Mr. Anderson had threatened to send Blaine out of the country, and there was no doubt in Finn’s mind that he could, and would, make that happen if he thought it was necessary.

“Will you teach me that part from _South Pacific_?” he asked as they climbed into the Navigator. “The guy who sings in French?”

Kurt broke into a real smile, one that made Finn’s shoulders settle and his stomach quiet. Maybe all he needed was to ask Kurt to smile at him like that for the rest of the evening, and he’d be fine.

* * *

As they drove east toward Lima on I-80, Puck’s dad shifted back and forth between rambling about haphazard, optimistic plans regarding what was going to happen when they got back, and equally unfocused commentary about the political state of the nation. Either he didn’t seem to notice that Puck wasn’t responding, or he didn’t actually care whether he was or not.

“I’m working on getting a place for us, you and me,” he told Puck as they crossed the border into Illinois. “Out near Akron, so you can see Bethie whenever you want. Meanwhile, if you’re having trouble, there’s a woman from the J4J organization in Ohio who’s going to help you keep focused. All right?” He went right on talking without waiting for an answer, nodding at the never-ending highway. “It’s going to be better, now that you’re on the right track. You’ll see.”

Beth was the only person Puck was allowing himself to think about. The closer he got to Lima, the more jumpy he felt. Every few hours he turned his phone back on, stared at the _78 voice mails_ notice on the display, and turned it back off again. He guessed it hadn’t changed because he’d run out of storage space for voice mails, not because people had stopped trying to call him. He didn’t want to leave it on and risk receiving live phone calls while he was in the car with his dad.

“You’re coming back with me tonight,” his dad said. “You can pick up your truck and follow me out there, stop and see Beth. I can go with you to the high school tomorrow and fill out whatever paperwork they need—“

“I’m not switching schools, Dad,” he said. He could hear how weary his voice was, even though he’d barely said a word for hours.

“Well, you’re not driving back and forth from Akron to Lima.”

He closed his eyes. “I have stuff to settle at home before I can figure out what’s next.” Then he opened them again. “How long have I been gone?”

His dad gave him an amused look. “About three weeks. What, you lost track of time, up in the mountains?” Puck nodded, his sense of disorientation increasing, and his dad nodded back. “It’s the first of November. You haven’t been gone so long that you can’t catch up. You still haven’t checked your messages, have you?”

“I thought I’d just delete them.”

His dad shrugged. “Suit yourself. But call your sister, okay?”

He ended up deleting all of them except for the last one, which was from Lauren, of all people. It was timestamped three days ago. He listened to it on speaker when his dad stopped for gas, just west of Lima.

 _“Look, you selfish hunk of elephant shit,”_  Lauren's voice said. She actually sounded legitimately angry, enough to make him straighten up in his seat. _“This isn’t about you anymore. It’s about your sister, who’s a lot more deserving a human being than you are. You need to pull it together and call her. She’s not going to come home until you do. Then you need to call everybody you know and apologize for disappearing like this, starting with Kurt, and ending with Tess. Got it?”_

Puck leaned across the driver’s seat to where his dad was pumping gas and rapped on the window to get his attention. His dad opened the door.

“Did Sarah take off to find me?” he demanded. “After I left?”

His dad snorted. “She’s got spunk, I’ll give her that.”

Puck stifled a curse and thumbed out a quick, _got yr msg, wheres sarah_ to Lauren, followed by a _where are you, squirt_ to his sister. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest. It wasn’t panic, because he knew Sarah could take care of herself. But the bond went both ways between them, or at least it was supposed to. He’d left without so much as a word about _why_ he was doing what he’d done. She deserved to hear that from him, even if was after the fact.

“You could have told her where I was,” he said to his dad as he climbed back into the truck.

“You could have, too,” his dad replied mildly. “But you were on retreat, remember? You needed time away, to do this by yourself.”

He wasn’t sure how to explain to his dad the particular type of familial responsibility he felt toward Sarah, because he wasn’t sure he understood it himself. Lauren’s text reply came in while he was formulating a response.

_She’s home. Did you call Kurt?_

_Can’t,_  Puck told her. _He’s not going to understand._

_That makes a dozen of us, dickhead. I’m gonna tell him. Where are you?_

_Back in Ohio._

Her next question sent chills up his spine, lodging in his neck and making his head throb.

_Did they break you?_

He turned off the phone and thrust it into his pocket before he could read any more. Either Sarah didn’t have her phone with her, or she’d been grounded from using it. Knowing Carole and Burt, it was probably the second one.

His truck was still in the Pat’s Donuts & Kreme parking lot. Puck wondered if his dad had pulled some strings to keep the police from towing it away.

“You sure you don’t want to come crash at my place?” asked his dad, handing him the keys. “I can make up the couch for you.”

“Yeah, no, I think I’ve got it.”

He let his dad hug him. He didn’t feel any more clear about what was going on than he had in the Oregon police station, but at the moment, he was just too tired to fight.

“Keep the faith, okay?” his dad whispered, giving him a gentle punch in the ribs. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He sat in his truck for a while, holding his keys and staring at the neon sign in the window of the donut shop. Because he didn’t know what to do first, he took his phone back out and called Lauren. She answered right away.

“This was never about me, okay?” he said. “I got responsibilities. I did this so I could do them right.”

 _“What the hell are you talking about?”_ she said irritably.

“I have a kid, all right? And—other people who depend on me.” He wasn’t going to say Blaine’s name, and that wasn’t happening anyway, was it? “It’s like… on the airplane, when there’s a problem. You put on your own oxygen mask first.”

 _“Yeah, but the flight attendant doesn’t say slit your throat before helping others, do they?”_ She let out an exasperated sigh. _“Look, who is in charge here?”_

He brushed away the feeling of terror that accompanied that thought. “What do you mean?”

_“You left without talking to Kurt or Finn. You aren’t listening to them. Is your dad running the show?”_

“No.” He took a deep breath. “No. It’s me. I did this.”

_“You did this because you thought it was a good idea.”_

“Yeah.”

_“Well, how do you know you’re making the right decisions?”_

“I don’t,” he said.

_“And you don’t think that’s a problem?”_

“Yeah, but that’s how it is when you’re an adult, right? You don’t always know if you’re doing it right, but you do it anyway, because you have to follow the compass inside you.”

_“Puck, I hear you saying these words, and—are you listening? Your compass is fucked up. You need to go home and talk to Kurt, right now. He’s been freaking out since you left.”_

“I know.” The headache was back, and he cracked his neck in an effort to make it subside. “But he doesn’t have the answers to everything, okay?”

_“Because he’s gay? That’s stupid. Look, I don’t want to sleep with him either, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t take his advice when he’s right.”_

“Not because of that. Because—“ He fought his own exhaustion, trying to get the words right. “He doesn’t have anybody guiding him.”

She responded slowly, with care, as though she were explaining things to a small child. “You _mean… besides his dad, who’s awesome? Or you mean besides his own rational brain? And what about—“_

“Look, Lauren, I got to get to Shelby’s,” he interrupted. “Tell Kurt—just tell him I’ll talk to him soon.”

 _“Jeez.”_ She sounded almost amused. _“You are in so much fucking trouble and you don’t even know it.”_

He hung up the phone and rubbed his neck. _No. I know it. I just can’t do anything about it._

It was probably because of Lauren’s words that he considered calling Shelby at all. Even as he was dialing the number, he got a text from Kurt: _Noah, just come back to the house,_ followed by one from Carole: _Thank god you’re back, we’ve been so worried. Are you bringing Beth home tonight? Do you need anything?_

 _“Hello?”_ said Shelby’s voice.

“Hey. It’s me. I’m—“

 _“Well, well. Look who bothered to call.”_ She sounded just as pissed as Lauren had.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I was kind of out of range. Thanks for taking care of Beth while I was—when I was gone.”

_“I told you, I’ll take her as often as you’ll let me.”_

“Yeah, I know, I just… this was for her, you know? I did this for her so I could be a better Papa.”

_“Did what, exactly?”_

“I, uh.” He licked his lips. It was the first time saying the words from the program, and they weren’t his words. He stumbled over them a little. “Elim—eliminated my homosexual desires.”

_“And can you tell me why you thought that would make you a better Papa?”_

“Because they were distracting me from being right with God, right with myself. I couldn’t handle my responsibilities if I was always thinking about—“

 _“I really wish you would have talked with me about this first,”_ she said coldly. _“I never would have let you go. Remember what you slashed the tires on my students’ Range Rovers?”_

He huffed out a breath through his nose. “Shelby, you’re not in charge of me.”

_“True, but at the moment, I am in charge of this little girl. What makes you think I’m going to let you see her when you’re being like this?”_

He stared at the phone, actually held it out in front of him and stared at it, as though he could see her stubborn face through the screen. “You can’t keep me from her!”

_“Noah, don’t be an idiot. You have school tomorrow. Get your act together, and you can see Beth this weekend.”_

Puck felt the anger rise into his already aching head, but even in the state he was in, he knew she very well _could_ keep her from him. She could probably take Beth away from him entirely, without hardly trying. After all, she was the one with money; she was the one with a job and a place to live. He was nothing but an underage Lima loser.

“Okay, well,” he said, in a voice that wasn’t really his own, “give her a kiss from me.”

 _“I will.”_ Her voice softened. _“I’m glad you’re home safe, Noah.”_

He wondered what would happen if he just curled up on the bench seat of his truck, right where it was in the parking lot. He could drive it to school the next day. But Carole had said _Do you need anything?_ He did. There were a lot of things he needed, and a bed and a toothbrush were the least of them.

He took out his phone and looked at it, and Kurt’s text, saying _Just come back to the house._ He didn’t say _just come home._ Puck wondered if Kurt had done that on purpose. But then he thought about Sarah, how Lauren had said she was home, but she hadn’t returned his call. He wondered if she was doing the same thing as him, avoiding everybody's calls. He was overcome by a wash of guilt. Sarah was just as messed up as he was.

He replied to Carole: _Can’t see Beth until this weekend. It’s just me tonight. That OK?_

She responded right away. _Yes, absolutely. Everybody will be so glad to see you. I’ll be home as soon as I can get away from work._

It wasn’t exactly a relief, but he felt a little less tense driving down Bellefontaine toward the house. He wondered if he could sneak in through the back, grab a shower and change his clothes before anybody saw him. The three pairs of jeans and five t-shirts he’d brought to Oregon had been laundered, but they'd seen better days, especially the one pair he’d recently puked on.

But when he pulled into the driveway to park the car in the rear garage, Lauren was walking out the back door. Her mouth twisted into its customary sneer, but her eyes were red and watery. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“You didn’t call Kurt,” she said flatly.

“I texted Carole? And Sarah, but she didn’t text back.”

“That’s because she’s grounded from her phone for six months.” Her eyebrow went up. “I think _you_ might be, too.”

It was almost good to see Lauren, but he couldn’t relax enough to express it. He let his eyes stray up toward the house. She sighed, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve as she stepped aside to let him pass.

“Was it worth it?” she asked.

He paused, clenching his teeth, and tasted the tang of adrenaline. “I don’t know yet.”

It was an honest reply. She seemed to get that, because her answering nod had none of her usual sarcasm in it.

“Kurt went to see Blaine perform last weekend at the coffeehouse,” she said. “He talked to him.”

“Blaine _talked_ to him?” he echoed, and Lauren nodded again. He stuffed down the surge of hope, but he couldn't help but ask, “Did he—“

“Carl took a video. You’ll see.” She looked almost sympathetic now. “You missed a lot, hot stuff.”

Puck stumbled up the steps into the kitchen in a daze, barely noticing himself going through the routine of opening the door and setting down his backpack, the way he usually did after school. He could hear music upstairs, but no one seemed to be around. Quietly, he climbed the back stairs to his own apartment, listening as the piano paused and resumed, joined by two achingly familiar male voices:

_We feel restless, we feel blue._  
_We feel hungry, and in brief_  
_We feel every kind of feeling_  
_But the feeling of relief_  
_We feel hungry as the wolf felt when he met Red Riding Hood.  
_ _What don't we feel? We don't feel good._

Kurt and Finn singing anything at all together would have been a punch in the gut, but these lyrics, whatever they were from, were a double punch. All thoughts of escaping to his room fled as he was drawn down the hall and around the corner toward the green couch, and the piano, and Finn, and Kurt.

_Lots of things in life are beautiful but brother_  
_There is one particular thing that is in no way, shape, or form like any other…  
_ _There is nothing like a—_

“Noah!” Sarah cried, cutting the two singers off in mid-sentence as she saw him. Both Finn's and Kurt's heads whipped up to stare at him, but Puck kept his own eyes on her as she pushed past Finn, toward him. He had to fend off blows from both her hands before she gave up trying to hit him and just grabbed him instead.

“Hey, you might not want to get too close,” he protested weakly as she wrapped her arms around his middle. “I could seriously use a shower.”

“... Noah?”

He couldn’t avoid Kurt’s intense gaze for long; it seemed to encompass the entire room. Sarah moved aside to let Kurt take her place, but before Kurt could put his arms around him, Puck took two steps backward.

“Slow down,” he said. His words were marred by the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

Kurt let his arms drop, watching him with confusion, and stayed where he was.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No, it’s—" He swallowed. "I can’t. I’m sorry, I just, I can’t.”

He couldn’t even look at Kurt long enough to meet his gaze. All he could see was Kurt’s tight brown pants and the flattering cut of his jacket before the headache overcame his vision. He winced.

“It’s okay,” said Finn softly. “We won’t bother you if you want to take a shower and relax. We’ll leave you alone.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Maybe, yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Finn moved close enough for Puck to see the compassion on his face. Somehow that was worse than Kurt’s anxiety. “You had a long drive.”

“Yeah,” he said again. If he kept his eyes on the floor, he was okay. He let Sarah grab his arm and lead him away, like he was an invalid. Finn and Kurt trailed behind them. “I think… I’ll be out in a little bit.”

“Will you tell us what happened?” Kurt asked, ignoring Finn’s murmured words of caution.

“I will. I promise. You can hear all of it.”

He left the words, and Kurt and Finn, behind, trying to stay focused long enough to strip off his clothes and step into the water.

The shower there in his own bathroom was a hundred million times better than the one at Adventure Camp. He stayed under the spray long enough for the water to get chilly. Sarah sat on the edge of the toilet and listened to him make obscene groaning noises.

“How’d Dad get you to go with him?” she asked. 

“He showed up at Pat’s at night, then texted me to pack up and head out.” He peered cautiously around the edge of the shower curtain, but there didn’t seem to be any repercussions to being naked in front of his own sister. She handed him a towel.

"And you did?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I don't know. It sounded..."

“I know. Mr. Schuester told the Glee club that you’d robbed a convenience store and you were in juvie.”

“For crying out loud,” said Puck, rolling his eyes. “Who in heck made that story up?”

“I don’t know, but everybody thinks that’s where you were.” She regarded him as he tied the towel around his waist. “Adventure Camp, huh.”

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath and let it out, willing the headache not to return. “I’m guessing you know what that was about by now.”

“Yeah. Lauren did the research. Jake’s mom Tanisha figured out where the camp was, and Tess called the cops on you.” She sounded more subdued than Puck was used to hearing her. “Did they come?”

“They did, but… it was at the end. We were pretty much already done.”

“Done doing what?” The question was a whisper, like she didn’t really want to ask it. He told her anyway.

“Done making me stop liking guys. Stop wanting to have sex with them.”

She crinkled up the corners of her eyes in perplexity. “Why the fuck would you want to do that?”

It was the third time somebody had asked him that today. He just shook his head. “I’m not really sure, squirt. It felt like the right thing to do.”

“That is really messed up,” she announced. When he laughed, she stared at him, eyes wide.

“Sorry, you just sounded exactly like Lauren there for a minute.”

Her face melted from surprise into a more complex expression. “Was that meant to be a compliment?”

“Yeah, I guess in this case it kind of was. You can take it that way, anyway.”

She let him put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before hugging him again. Being hugged by his sister didn’t make him feel sick. In fact, he didn’t feel anything other than pleased.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you why I was going away," he said.

She poked him in the sternum. “It’s not like I don’t already know you’re a complete shit. But I think Kurt was pretty hurt. You promised him you weren’t gonna run away, and—“

“It wasn’t running away,” he said. “I was… running _to._ I was doing this on purpose.”

They both turned as they heard a sharp sob from the bedroom. Puck peeked through the door to see Finn standing there alone, looking awkward.

“I don’t think Kurt was ready to hear that.”

“Yeah.” Puck watched Finn’s eyes settle on his bare nipple, still absent of its ring.The look on Finn’s face, a mixture of disappointment and concern, made him squirm.

“I never did get it back after they took it out the last time.” He touched the red, distressed skin on his chest. “They practically ripped it out.”

“Who?”

“The guys in there with me. They, uh.” He pressed his lips together and glanced back at Sarah, who gestured for him to continue.

“Trust me,” she said, “you shouldn’t hold back. Whatever I’m imagining is probably worse than what actually happened.”

Puck sighed. “Yeah… I don’t think that’s true. Sorry.”

There was a brief, awful silence.

Finn cleared his throat. “I was thinking… Mom and Burt are gonna be home soon, so if you’re ready to talk about what happened, it might be better to save that for later when we’re all together. So you don’t, you know, have to say it more than once.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

Finn continued to regard Puck carefully, almost clinically. It was disconcerting, but at least it didn’t make him feel sick.

“What?” Puck asked finally.

“I was just wondering, and you can tell me if I’m totally off base, if you might want to make dinner.”

He felt the relief hit him, a wave so intense he felt dizzy. “Yeah. If—if you don’t mind.”

“I think we’d all like that a lot,” Finn said. The words came out distorted, and he turned away for a moment, staring determinedly at the wall. “I don’t… I’m not sure what I can say to you without making things worse.”

Puck nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know either? But that was fine.”

“Yeah?” Finn looked back at him. The tears shone in his eyes. “How about if I tell you I’m so fucking pissed at you?”

He rubbed his chin. “I’d say join the club?”

“Yeah. And what if I made you apologize to Kurt?”

“I think I’m going to be spending the rest of the year doing that.” He didn’t even bother to return Finn’s glare.

“Okay.” Finn slowly let out his breath. He gave Sarah what seemed to be a significant look, and she turned around, walked into the hallway and closed the door. It was weird, realizing Sarah had that kind of personal silent communication with anybody other than him. Knowing it was Finn made it a little easier to take, but there was still a lump in his throat as Finn turned back to face him.

“You gonna beat me up now?” Puck asked quietly.

“I was considering it,” said Finn. His lips were curled into a familiar grimace. It wasn’t entirely unlike the look he’d given Puck in the choir room when he’d learned Puck had been lying to him about Beth for weeks. “But I don’t know how you’d take it. I’m not sure I even know who you are anymore.”

Puck couldn’t exactly disagree with him. It seemed like every time he did something like this, he came back a little different. “You don’t have to blame anybody but me.”

“That’s not true.” Finn moved in closer, like he was going to grab Puck by the scruff of the neck, but he rested both hands on Puck’s shoulders instead. He touched him gingerly, as though he thought Puck might compress into nothing under the weight of his hands. Puck tried to stay very still and keep his thoughts on the scary parts of Finn, instead of the other parts, the distracting parts. “I blame myself.”

“You?” Puck shook his head. “Dude, this wasn’t about you. I mean, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Every time I _don’t_ do anything with you,” said Finn grimly, “things end up going wrong. I should know by now, you need somebody watching you all the time. _All_ the time. Even more than Sarah does.” He gripped Puck’s arm hard now, and yanked him off-balance onto the bed. "You need other things, too."

"Yeah," he said in a whisper.

“Yeah," Finn echoed. "But you wouldn’t even let Kurt touch you. I doubt you'd let me do that.”

“It’s not about _letting_ you, or him." Puck winced, feeling the headache beginning again. “It’s about not _wanting_ you to. But this…” He risked a look at Finn’s face again, which wore its own tense mask of pain. “I think I can handle it.”

“I don’t want you to _handle it,”_ Finn said, sounding bitter and frustrated. “I want you to _give in._ Why don’t you want to do that anymore?”

He stood his ground, letting Finn’s anger wash around him as he focused on the floor. “Yeah, well, if I knew that, this would have been a hell of a lot easier, wouldn’t it? So… are you going to spank me or what?”

Finn stared at him for another long moment. Then he released Puck’s arm, shaking him off his fingers like something sticky and disgusting. Somehow that gesture made it a little easier for Puck to walk back into the bathroom and close the door. He didn’t feel sick. He just felt worthless. At least that was familiar.

By the time he got dressed and came downstairs, Sarah was already halfway done with dinner prep. She slid a bowl of shredded cabbage toward him.

“Sausages are almost done. I’ll do the glaze.”

Puck jockeyed for space at the stove, not because he needed to, not with six burners, but because being next to Sarah in the kitchen felt so normal and comforting. She passed him the olive oil without him needing to ask, and then a knife from the magnetic holder on the wall so he could dice the onions and garlic. He wasn’t very subtle craning his neck to scout for Kurt, but Sarah didn’t offer any more information as to Kurt's whereabouts, and eventually Puck stopped waiting for him to come out of hiding.

His pulse raced briefly when the front door opened and closed, but Carole was the only one who appeared in the kitchen entryway. She dropped her briefcase and hurried across the room toward him. Puck managed to drop the serving spoon down on the counter before she seized him.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“Say, _you are in so much trouble, mister,”_ he whispered back, and she choked on a laugh.

“It’s not funny,” she replied, but of course she was smiling as she said it. She rested a hand on the side of his head, and he sighed, leaning into it. _Another person who can touch me._ “Puck, what _happened?”_

“Finn thinks we should wait and talk about it all together,” he said. “But I don’t know if Kurt wants to hear it. I think he took off.”

“He went to the garage,” Sarah said, without turning around. “To pick up Tatenui. We’re short one car at the moment. And he totally wants to hear what happened.”

Carole squeezed his hands in hers. “Noah, this might be complicated, but we’re all far more worried than angry. Anything you can tell us will help alleviate some of that.”

Puck nodded, trying not to let the doubt show on his face. He exhaled slowly. “I’m really sorry I took off without saying anything. I didn’t realize how stupid that was until it was too late, and my dad kept my cell phone in the car while I was gone. He said he told the school where I was.”

Her face went stormy. “He told the school a story, one that just feeds right into your bad-boy image. It’s not going to do you any good.”

“It’s not going to hurt me, either,” Puck said, shrugging. He turned back to the stove. “Not like the rest of it. I almost didn’t come back here today. My dad wants me to move to Akron.”

Sarah whipped her head around as she was taking the sausages out of the braising pan and stared at him. “That is _not_ happening.”

“Yeah, no. Not if I can help it.” He stirred the cabbage. “But me, being here… that might actually suck more. For everybody.”

“Noah, we _want_ you here,” said Carole insistently. “Both of you. No matter how hard it is. You and Sarah, you belong with us, in this house.” She glared at them both. “But there are some ground rules you’re going to _need_ to follow.”

“As much as I can,” Puck said. He caught her outraged expression and hastened to explain. “I mean, I can decide to follow your rules, but I don’t think you really get to decide whether or not I’m allowed to stay here. My dad’s still in control, right? Legally?”

Carole nodded, her face a mask of worry to match Finn’s. “It was the reason we couldn’t come get you right away. We had no jurisdiction. Otherwise, I would _never—“_

Sarah let out a little cough. Carole paused, savvy enough to catch it, and looked back and forth between the two of them with wary confusion, but Sarah said nothing else, pouring the chicken stock and cider vinegar into the pan.

“It was my decision,” said Puck. “I chose this. Maybe not from day one, but I knew what I was getting into.”

Now Carole definitely looked surprised, but she nodded. “So… you know he might want to take you away.”

“I think we can count on that, yeah.”

“And you… might decide to go with him?” She didn’t look at Sarah, but Sarah was glaring at both of them.

“I don’t know yet.”

“I hear that. I… well, can I just get your agreement that you’ll come here if you need a place to be, for any reason? Even if living here isn’t ultimately what you choose.” The last words came out somewhat stilted. Puck couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah.” He gave her what he hoped was a sincere smile. “Thanks.”

“Also, can I just ask?” she added quickly. “I know Finn said wait to hear it, but… what about Bethie?”

“I already talked to Shelby. She’s just as pissed as all the rest of you are, but she said I can come on Friday as usual.”

Carole let out her breath. “Well, that’s good.”

“I did this for her,” he said. This made Carole look even more confused, and he shook his head. “I’ll explain later.”

She hovered, but didn’t ask to help, for the rest of the meal prep. By the time Kurt and Finn returned with Burt, the table was set and the food was ready and nobody was saying anything.

Burt gave him a hug, but it was a little stiff. Puck tried to apologize three times, but it stuck in his throat each time he tried to speak it.

“The dinner’s heart-healthy,” he said instead. “We used these chicken sausages, so you don’t have to worry about… uh, you know.”

“That sounds good, Puck,” said Burt. His voice was steady, but his face looked distracted, like he wasn’t quite there. 

When they sat down to dinner and still nobody was looking at him, Puck sighed.

“Look,” he said. “I’m going to try to tell you what happened, but… there’s stuff I don’t know if I can talk about without… having a reaction.”

“A reaction,” said Burt. “Like an allergy?”

“Yeah. I think it’s meant to be kind of like that.”

“I read about aversion therapy,” said Kurt. His eyes were red and his voice hoarse, but at least he wasn’t crying at the moment. “About the techniques they use. It’s barbaric.”

“Why don’t you let Puck tell it, Kurt,” Carole said quietly.

Puck shrugged, staring at his plate. “No, he’s right. That’s pretty much what it was. The whole first weekend was like a leadership retreat for desperate lonely gay kids. Then, after they got under my skin, they made me talk about everything in my past: my Ma, my dad, Blaine and you guys and Adam and everybody.” He swallowed. “Then they started doing other stuff to make it all stick.”

“What do you mean, other stuff?” Carole asked.

“Stuff to make it feel bad. Like… now, when I think about guys, I get these headaches. I feel sick to my stomach.”

“Oh, god,” said Burt. He sounded nothing short of horrified.

“We’ll listen to the details,” Carole said quickly. She gave Burt a quelling look, and he subsided. “Anything you want to tell us, we’ll listen. I’m just wondering… you said you did this for Bethie?”

He glanced around the table, watching Finn, Kurt and Burt look away in turn. Sarah was the only one who kept her gaze steadily fixed on him. “It was because… after Blaine couldn’t see us anymore, I realized how much I was freaking out about being a good dad? My own dad wasn’t exactly the best role model. But you guys, you’re, like, the best.” He appealed to Burt and Carole with his eyes. They didn’t exactly smile, but Carole took Burt’s hand, and she nodded at him. “I think, you know, it made me think about what kind of man I want to be. Because I might not get to take care of Blaine, but I _am_ taking care of Beth.”

“You are,” Burt said, looking baffled. “You’re doing a great job. But what was wrong with doing that and being gay at the same time?”

He wanted to explain the way it felt, to have his dad looking at him with _pride_ for a change, to know he was finally doing something right in his dad's eyes instead of it being the way it had always been.

“I couldn’t," he said at last. "I just couldn’t. I’m not sure I even think that's okay anymore.”

Kurt looked just as pissed by this statement as he had every time Puck had said something similar throughout the past month, but he didn’t say anything. Finn continued to eat, but he was definitely listening, watching Puck out of the corner of his eye.

“If you need a therapist, can’t you talk to Holly?” Burt asked. “She’s supposed to be here to help all of us, and she knows all of it already.”

“I don’t think so,” he said cautiously. “No, I think… there’s a woman, my dad said, she’s going to be kind of my reentry person, at school and… I guess, maintain the cover he set up? About me being in juvie.” He was having a hard time remembering all the details his dad talked about in the truck with everyone’s eyes on him. “Anyway, Holly’s on _your_ side.”

“I thought we were all on the same side, Noah,” Kurt said. He looked so sad. Puck dropped his gaze to the table.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Kurt, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

They all finished dinner in near-silence. Nobody thanked Puck for the food, but he didn’t really want them to. They let him collect the dishes, at least, and they didn’t make him ask to do it. Sarah vanished shortly thereafter from the table, and Kurt drew Burt and Carole away into the library.

Finn was the only one who remained in the kitchen as Puck shuttled the dishes toward the sink. He put a hand on Puck’s arm.

“My room when you’re done here. Wear a sweatshirt and sweatpants, no skin showing.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just nodded. But before Finn could turn away, he grabbed Finn’s hand. Finn stared at it in surprise.

“That’s okay?” Finn asked, in a completely different tone of voice. “Touching me like that?”

Puck shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? I’m dealing.”

Finn nodded, first slowly, then more definitively. “And… the telling-you-what-to-do thing? That’s okay too?”

“I don’t know,” Puck repeated. He nodded at the dishes. “I’m going to finish this, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you need to do to get through it, that’s what you should do.”

It wasn’t as simple as that, and Puck was pretty sure Finn knew it, but he accepted the words with a bowed head. At least that didn’t feel bad.

Carole was waiting to give him another hug before he went upstairs.

“I’m sorry about Burt,” she said softly. “All those questions.”

He tried to explain around the lump in his throat.“I want to answer them. I do. I want to try to explain why. It’s just hard to figure it out sometimes. I’m not so used to—to listening to my own judgment.”

“But you feel like that’s something you _should_ do,” she said. He nodded, surprised by her vehemence, and she nodded back. “I’ve been there. As good as it felt to be managed by someone when I really needed it, it felt just as good to be independent, knowing I could take care of myself. And scary, when I couldn’t.”

It was odd to think about Carole being anything other than strong and self-sufficient, but then, she’d had eighteen years to become that way.

 _Eighteen years without submission,_ he thought, and shuddered. _Well, if she can do it, maybe I can, too._

He dug a pair of sweatpants out of his bottom drawer, and then found an enormous threadbare sweatshirt that had belonged to his uncle Samuel. There wasn’t any reason to change his socks, but he did anyway. Then he waited in the hallway for several minutes, watching and waiting and chewing on his lip, before he managed to gather enough courage to walk into Finn’s room.

Finn was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, and Kurt was there, too, tucked into the hood of his blue NYC jacket. They were both wearing loose sweats, just as he was.

"Where should I--I mean, where do you, you know..." Puck trailed off.

“You can kneel on the floor if you want,” Finn said. “But I think I’d rather you sit next to us.”

Puck felt his heart give a heavy thump at the words _kneel on the floor._ “Uh…”

“It’s not a command,” he added. “I’m not going to give you any of those, not for a while, not until we know more about what’s going on for you. It’s whatever feels right to you.”

He nodded slowly. “It's just that, when I think about… us, doing stuff on the bed, I feel sick.”

Kurt grimaced, like somehow that nauseated feeling might be catching. “So stay over there.”

“Yeah, but I still want to sit next to you.” He shrugged apologetically. “I just don’t know how long I can last.”

Kurt’s expression thawed a little. “You do? You want to?”

He nodded. “I really do.”

Finn moved back a little, making room for Puck as he settled onto the bed, watching them both for cues, but they were simply waiting. Finally Finn reached out his hand. Puck took it carefully, holding it, and nodded as he maintained his equilibrium. Kurt’s face was blank as he offered his own hand for Puck to take.

“I think it’s okay as long as I’m not thinking about having sex with you,” Puck told him.

Kurt’s lip twitched. “So I should check back in, what, thirty seconds?”

Puck let himself laugh as he exhaled. “Maybe. But so far, so good.”

“Just let go when you want to,” said Finn. He looked from Kurt to Puck. “We had this rule: no lying, no hiding. I think it still stands, even if you haven’t done a very good job at following it.”

“Yeah,” Puck said. “I think I was trying to protect you from what I was thinking.”

“Right, so… can we at least agree that was a bad idea?” They all nodded. “Okay. So you talked about what happened to you at dinner. Was there anything else?”

“A lot more,” said Puck.

“Yeah.” Finn watched him soberly. “You want to tell us everything?”

“I don’t know if I can. I can try.”

“That’s okay. We want you to get what you need, whatever that is. Even if we don’t understand it.”

Even though Finn wasn’t smiling, he was speaking very gently, and Puck had the sense that he wasn’t mad. That made it easier to nod and say, “Thank you.” Kurt didn’t say anything, but he squeezed Puck’s hand, and Puck didn’t let go.

“Carl says we don’t have to give up on our relationship just because it’s hard.”

It took Puck a minute to realize Finn didn’t mean _their_ relationship. “You and Carl are together again?” he said, and watched Finn’s face redden. “Holy shit, man, when did that happen?”

“It didn’t,” Finn protested.

“But it’s changing,” said Kurt. “A lot changed since you left. Sam joined Glee.”

“Sam, the new guy from football, the one who was cracking jokes about balls in his mouth?” He nodded. “That's cool. I like him.”

Kurt sniffed. “You would. He’s Coach Beiste’s boy.”

“Her—!?” Puck almost let go of Kurt and Finn’s hands, he was so surprised. “She brought him with her from Dublin? How does that even work? Do his _parents_ —“

“And we did Rocky Horror in Glee,” Finn went on. “I was Brad, and Kurt was Riff-Raff. And Carl was Eddie.”

Now Puck’s mouth was hanging open, suddenly arrested by the compelling image of Finn standing in the middle of the stage in his underwear. He swallowed on the sudden thickness in his throat. “I can’t,” he blurted. Immediately, they let go of his hands.

“Close your eyes,” said Finn immediately. Puck obeyed, trying to fight down the wave of nausea. “Take shallow breaths. Don’t worry about it. You’re okay.”

Finn’s voice was neutral but calming. After a few seconds, Puck was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be sick.

“Okay," he said. "Go on."

“It’s not all good stuff,” said Finn. “Carl and Emma are getting married, probably.”

Puck attempted a smile. “Hey, I’d say that’s good, even if _you_ hate it.”

He sighed. “You’re right. It’s pretty good. And I think Rachel and Kurt might be becoming friends or something.”

“Don’t tell her that, please,” Kurt begged. “I really don’t want her to make me a cat calendar.”

“Oh, and Kurt did a duet with you in Glee, even though you weren’t there,” said Finn. He nudged Puck’s knee with his fist. “Now everybody in Glee’s heard you sing ‘Free In You.’ If _that_ doesn’t make you feel like puking, then—“

“You sang a duet with my recording?” He turned to Kurt, watching him curiously, and grinned when Kurt blushed and hid his face. “That’s actually pretty awesome.”

“Rocky Horror was awesome, too,” said Finn. “It was, Kurt, even if you don’t think it was a _real_ musical. But we kind of got in trouble for pushing the envelope, so Mr. Schue is having us do _South Pacific_ instead. And you can see the video Dave made of Rocky Horror, if you want.”

“Of course I want,” Puck said, but Kurt turned and blinked at Finn.

“Dave… made a recording of Rocky Horror?”

“Yeah, he sent it to me afterward. Didn’t you see him in the audience?”

“I wasn’t sure if he wanted to be seen.” Kurt looked unsettled by this, but he shook it off quickly enough, turning back to him. He squeezed Puck’s hand again. “Speaking of videos, there’s one you have to see, when you think you’re ready. It’s Blaine… well, it’s _Patrick,_ singing at Irene’s.”

Puck’s throat constricted again, but he told his stomach to settle down. “Okay. Yeah. I’d like to see that a lot.”

“I’ll text it to you.” He eyed Puck. “If you think you want it.”

“I do,” he insisted. “You have to believe me.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt said quietly. “It’s hard to trust anything you say right now. I was so sure you wouldn’t run. You said you wouldn’t. But you _did.”_

Kurt sounded so hurt, Puck felt like he had to defend himself. He kept his eyes on Kurt’s very baggy sweatpants, effectively concealing the frame Puck knew was inside. “I only ran because I was more scared of doing this wrong than I was of getting what I wanted. You and Shelby and Tess all think I screwed up, but being responsible for other people means I have to listen to _myself_ , right? Otherwise, what good am I?”

“Noah,” Kurt sighed, but Finn gave his hand a quick tug, and Kurt fell silent again.

“We had an anniversary without you,” Finn said to Puck, still in that same gentle, steady tone. “But there’s another one coming up at New Year’s. Last year at New Years, the three of us agreed to try one year, and then we would see. I’m holding you to that.”

Puck shook his head, feeling the despair curving his spine, weighing his chin to his chest. “I don’t really see why.”

Finn almost sounded amused. “You do get you’re not just important to us for sex?”

He gritted his teeth. “Yeah, but… if everything about you is sexy, how am I even going to function around you?”

Kurt folded himself into a little ball, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them, so that his hood fell forward over his eyes. He looked about eight years old like that.

“He’s right,” he said miserably. “Why are we bothering, Finn? He doesn’t want to feel like that every day.”

“Hey.” Finn’s voice was sharp. Puck felt himself respond despite it not being directed at him, but Kurt barely moved. “He may have given up on himself, but you don’t _get_ to give up on him. I know we’re right and he’s wrong. Now we have to make him believe it again.”

It was easy to fall into a different space when Finn talked _about_ him instead of to him when he was right there. It was a space in which everything felt a little less tangible. He relaxed into it, so that when Finn said his name, he had to fight to focus.

“Every day, somebody’s going to be with you,” Finn was saying. “As much as possible, at school, and after school, with you and Sarah. Just doing ordinary things. We’ll finish out the football season. The way it looks now, we might even make it to the playoffs.”

“Ordinary things,” Puck repeated. It sounded possible. “Okay, yeah.”

Finn nodded. “What else do you think would be an ordinary kind of thing?”

“Uh…” He glanced at Kurt. “Music? I did a lot of that while I was... there, and it was fine. Good, even.”

Kurt shifted out of his huddle, gripping his own hands in his lap. “Do you think you want to do the musical with us?”

“I don’t know much about _South Pacific._ But maybe. And... I helped, you know, wash dishes in the kitchen at camp. That was good too.”

“Dishes,” Kurt said thoughtfully. “Maybe Irene would give him a job at the Lima Bean.”

“I could do that after school,” he said. Finn considered this.

“Maybe. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Even at night?”

“Not until we figure this out more.”

Puck shifted uncomfortably. “That’s, uh. It's gonna be a big pain in the ass for you, isn’t it?”

“Dude.” Finn’s authority slipped a little as he glared reproachfully at Puck. “You do get we _want_ to spend time with you? You’ve been gone for, like, weeks.”

“We _miss_ you,” Kurt added.

Neither of them moved, but Puck suddenly felt their attention on him, the way they were holding back, and he scrambled immediately to his feet.

“I’m—just going to get ready for bed,” he blurted, and before they could say anything else, he quickly shut himself into Finn’s bathroom.

It wasn’t sickness he felt at the moment, but the looming pressure of their expectation that this _could be fixed._ Like it was something he could control in some way. He sat on the floor of the bathroom and leaned his back against the closed door while he tried to conceive of how he could possibly sleep in the same bed with either of them ever again. The whole concept was more repulsive than he could deal with.

When he finally opened the door again, Sarah was the only one in Finn’s room. She beckoned for him to follow her, and led him to her room. She pointed at the second single bed.

“Guess that’s yours, for tonight.”

“Okay,” he said. Now the overwhelming feeling was one of relief. He wasn’t sure he could express it, but she didn’t ask him to. No one else appeared to say good night, and that was a relief, too.

When they were both in bed and the lights were out, he opened the video file Kurt had sent him on his phone. The sight of Blaine on stage hit him hard. Blaine looked far too vulnerable, and the expression on his face… Puck had to pause it several times while he dealt with the stabbing pain in his head.

“You probably think I’m nuts,” he said to Sarah in the dark, while he waited.

“You were just as fucked up before,” she replied. “It’s not like that’s gonna change in one year, therapy or no therapy.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness.” _That’s what makes me bad,_ he added in his head. “But I think you deserve to know why I left.”

“Since when do I ever need you to explain yourself to me?” she said with disdain. “You do what you need to do. I’m not going anywhere.”

Blaine on the recording sounded sad, which Puck decided was better than nothing. If Blaine didn’t remember them in some way, he wouldn’t miss them at all. When he tried calling Blaine’s number, it was still blocked. He turned off his phone and tried to pray for forgiveness, but he couldn’t concentrate.

“I wanted to let go of Blaine,” he said to Sarah, “but I think I actually let go of everybody.”

“Maybe,” Sarah agreed. She sounded very far away. “I don’t think they’re going to let go of you, though.”

He pulled the covers up closer around his chin and shivered. _I don’t know what good that’s going to do. Not if I don’t have anything left for them to hang on to anymore._

* * *

_Online: Jake, Mar, Ricky._

_Login 2010-11-01 22:45:12: Sarah. Mood: defeated._

_R2: Sarah!_

_M: Sarah, are you back? What happened? Are you okay?_

_S: Not exactly. I’m supposed to be in bed. Holly’s putting me on leave of absence from the discussion board until I’m not grounded anymore, which might be sometime in 2020, so I only have a few minutes before somebody notices I’m on the house computer._

_R2: I don’t want you to get in trouble._

_S: Not sure how I’m going to get in more trouble than I already am._

_J: fuck, sarah, you could have just told your folks instead of going after him alone_

_S: I could have, but I didn’t. But I wanted to tell you Noah’s home now, and partly that’s because of your mom, so tell her thank you. I don’t get to use the phone either._

_M: I’m glad your brother’s home. Is he all right?_

_S: It’s hard to say. I think the answer is no. But he’s here, and he’s talking to me, and I’ll take that over the alternative. Okay, the hallway light just went on, I’d better go. I don’t know if I can count you guys as friends after this, but I’m going to fucking miss you._

_Logout 2010-11-01 22:48:06: Sarah._

_R2: What does she mean, not count us as friends? What does that even mean?_

_J: mar, your gonna have to talk to her at school, your the only one there_

_M: Believe me, I’m on it._

* * *

<https://youtu.be/rx7h2thalzQ>

_Wake up lonely with you by my side_  
_One more night it doesn't feel_  
_There are movies playing in your eyes_  
_You dream of our fortunes_  
_But you're wrong  
_ _I don't belong to you_

_\- Cary Brothers, “Belong"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Some Enchanted Evening" and "There is Nothing Like A Dame" from _South Pacific_ , copyright 1949 by Rogers and Hammerstein.


End file.
